


You Can't Spell Knowledge Without an Owl

by LurKingFisher



Category: Original Work, Weak Constitution: Common Cat
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Catboys & Catgirls, Cute Animal Features, Drink Spiking, Familiars, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Magic School, Owlboy, Sign Language, Slavery, Weak Constitution: Common Cat - Freeform, fucked up magic society, magic familiars, mute character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 24,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23675380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LurKingFisher/pseuds/LurKingFisher
Summary: It is extremely important to do the proper research before acquisition of the first familiar. The choice of familiar can make or break any student's academic record.When Ansel is finally accepted into the prestigious Majik's Academia, he carefully selects and trains the perfect familiar for himself. But with two weeks left until the start of school, his plans are ruined, the familiar he was training is gone, and he is stuck with a very surly owl instead.Scopes puts the owl into scowl. He did not get to carefully research and choose any of his mages. He did not get to choose to attend Majik's Academia, it was forced upon him. Twice.  He doesn't even get to choose his own lunch.Can a very angry bird, and a mess of a magician, get over their pasts and learn to make something of the future?
Relationships: Magician/Familiar, Master/Pet - Relationship, Master/slave - Relationship
Comments: 141
Kudos: 55
Collections: Weak Constitution Extended Universe





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Weak Constitution: Common Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17302013) by [Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awkward_Dragon/pseuds/Awkward_Dragon). 



> I love Weak Constitution: Common Cat. And all of the fanfictions based on it. I wanted to add my own little work to the mix.

With two weeks left until the start of school Ansel was all set to begin classes already. He was so excited to finally be following in his family's footsteps and attending Majik's Academia. 

He had it all planned out, his life for the next five years, which was why when he stepped into his familiar's room to find her gone he was stunned.

It was extremely important to do the proper research before acquisition of the first familiar. Ansel had spent his entire life dreaming of what type he would choose. His eldest sister, Orla sang high praises of the use of doves as familiars. He'd finally settled upon Opal, a beautiful white pigeon that Orla had generously helped him source and purchase. 

Opal was so sweet-natured and eager to please. She was a dream to work with and Ansel was looking forward to showing her off to the other students.

Worry didn't begin to creep in until Ansel had searched all the usual places for her. Not that she was ever one to hide. 

It wasn't until Orla returned to their city apartment that he really began to panic.

"Orla, have you seen Opal? I can't find her."

Orla tried to breeze past him, dismissively. "I sold her."

Ansel tried to force a smile, grasping onto a single strand of hope. "You're joking…?" She wasn't. Of course she wasn't. All Ansel's dreams crashed down around him. He gaped at her. "You can't. Orla, no, you can't. She was mine." How could he have been so stupid? He'd left the papers in his sisters name. It had just been a formality. "You said she was mine. I trained her. How could you sell her?" 

"The Duchess of Elton was looking for a well-trained familiar and she'd heard of my work. She sought me out personally. She wanted something special, exquisitely trained with beautiful manners, and a flawless pedigree." 

"You could have given her any of your others."

"Opal was the best and she'll look truly exquisite next to the Duchess. The two of them resplendent in snow white. She's even issued me an invitation to her next soiree. They're so exclusive."

"Tell her no…"

"Typical. I knew you'd be this selfish. The contract has already been signed. She had Opal collected this morning."

"But…" I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.

"Can't you even try to be happy for me, for once. This is going to open so many doors for me and help my career immensely. She paid far more than you ever could. More than enough that I can get that breeding pair I had my eye on."

"School starts in two weeks. I need a familiar."

"It's just first year, it's not like it's difficult. You don't need a good familiar, anything will do. Just ask mother for one of hers, then it won't even matter if you mess up like usual and break it."

"Mother doesn't train familiars. She deals in companions. Pets and servants, not familiar-stock. They're entirely different."

"Just pick up something from the market then. There's always a few there."

Used and with their own issues he'd need to train out of them. "It's so late, there's not going to be anything good left. That's why I planned in advance. That's why I did all that work with Opal."

"You should know better than to get attached. They're just tools. It's not like you need a fancy familiar for school anyway. Most students kill their first few."

"You didn't." Ansel replied. And he didn't plan to either. He had thoughts on students that were that careless and wasteful. There was no reason that anyone should kill their familiars.

Orla laughed. "Why, that's a perfect solution, Ansel."

"What?"

"I'll give you my first familiar. I do recall you were rather fond of him."

"Scopes?" Ansel held his breath a moment before exhaling. "He's old. Would that even be safe?"

"He's not that old. He was young when I got him. He's hardly used. I haven't even touched him since I finished school."

There was a catch. There had to be a catch. "He's already trained. I'd hoped to train my own familiar."

"I can't believe you. Anyone else would be grateful at being offered such a valuable familiar, especially in their first year. I could make a lot more selling him, but you know how sentimental I get."

Ansel realised Orla couldn't sell him. Scopes had been a gift to her, but come second year she'd purchased her first dove and discovered she vastly preferred working with them. If she'd kept hold of Scopes she must have had reasons.

"Okay. I want the contract and all his papers in order."

"You could at least say thank you."

"Thank you, Orla."


	2. WingGlasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many years ago, Ansel meets and makes friends with a young owl.

**Many Years Ago ******

********

****

Ansel had been sent to bed early, so the adults could talk without younger ears listening in. He hadn't protested it, but now it was after midnight and he couldn't get back to sleep so he was walking the empty halls of the mansion, in the hope of grabbing something from the kitchen. 

Tomorrow was the Big Day, the Grand Celebration of his eldest sister, Orla, and all of the achievements she'd accomplished in her 22 years of life. Everyone was going to be there. 

Ansel had not expected to hear pitiful sobbing from one of the hallway closets. His heart wrenched and he couldn't just walk by. He'd cracked the door open and the largest pair of amber eyes had gazed back. 

Ansel did not recognise the boy, which was strange in itself. He prided himself in knowing the names and faces of all his father's household staff. 

"Hello, did you get stuck?" Ansel knew, from experience, that the cupboard doors had no handles on the inside. He offered a hand down to the boy only to realise two things.

There was a makeshift bed in there too. With the mansion crammed full of guests and the extra servants his father had hired for the occasion that might make some sense. Maybe? 

And the boy was not quite human. 

He was absolutely adorable. Cute and chubby with downy white hair and the most amazing eyes. 

Ansel kept his hand held out until the owl took it. "I was going to the kitchen to get a midnight snack. Want to come?" The boy smiled back at him and nodded. "Do you talk?" 

Graceful hands fluttered in the air, gesturing. 

"Oh. I can't sign. But I'd love to learn. I'm Ansel."

The owl pinched his thumb and forefinger together to form glasses encircling his eyes and waggled the rest of his fingers, like wings.  
"That's your name?"

WingGlasses nodded, happily. He gazed around the kitchen with such wide-eyed curiosity, not touching anything as Ansel dealt with the task of getting them both a midnight snack. Ansel cut them both thick slices of dark bread and slathered it in butter, then strawberry jam, handing WingGlasses one, keeping the other for himself. They snuggled down in front of the hearth, and the owl tore into his food as if he were starving.

"DId they forget to feed you?" WingGlasses shook his head, but kept eating. 

They'd talked. Well Ansel had talked and the owl had listened and gestured, and smiled, and even laughed a soft chuffing noise at his jokes. And too soon he was yawning away and retired to his bed but made sure not to lock the boy back in. Maybe he could ask his father for the boy. It'd be nice to have a friend. 

The very next day that cute owl-boy was dressed up all fancy with a lavish bow around his neck and gifted to Orla in front of everyone. He wasn't just any familiar, a prized creature capable of being a conduit for powerful magic, he was one of a prestigious pedigree, bred and raised by the very best. A reward for all of Orla's hard work which had culminated in her being accepted into Majik's Academia, just as their father before had. 

Orla had thanked him effusively, and delighted in showing off her new familiar to all the party guests.

The owl-boy had looked startled and lost in the crowds and the noise and how overwhelming it all was, to have all these strangers around him, talking at him, ruffling his hair and touching him and… Ansel imagined he knew just what that was like.

Orla had named him Scopes.


	3. A Familiar Diet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Orla is forced to leave to attend to urgent business, Ansel decides he can look after her familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything Scopes says is signed not spoken out loud. (Although don't think he signs much here.) 
> 
> Discussion of diet and crate-training for familiars.
> 
> This chapter is a continuation of chapter 2 and happens in THE PAST!!!

**The Past ******

********

********

Ansel didn't see much of Scopes for the next couple of days, while Orla worked with her new familiar. But then she received an urgent message and took off to deal with some important business, and left Scopes behind. 

When the man that Orla had hired to take care of her familiar, in her absence, showed up at the door, Ansel took one look at him and thought 'nope.'

"I'm afraid there's been a miscommunication," Ansel said. "Your services will not be required."

There'd been some disagreement, but offering to let him keep the first day's pay had soothed that over.

There was absolutely nothing the pet-sitter could do that Ansel couldn't. And if it meant a few white lies, well surely Orla would appreciate him saving her money. And if she'd been that bothered about how her new familiar was looked after, she wouldn't have run off on 'urgent business' leaving him behind. 

And maybe Ansel could prove himself worthy of Scopes by looking after the owl and then his father, who always appreciated that sort of responsibility, might reward him with Scopes papers and get Orla something else. 

So once he'd sent the pet-sitter or trainer or disciplinarian or whatever he was away, Ansel sought out Scopes. 

Orla had placed both the recommended training manual, along with her own extensive binder of notes on the desk. The manual itself was proliferated with yet more notes on neat pieces of paper and bookmarks with reference numbers. It was all overwhelming.. 

"Crate training? This isn't a crate it's a cage." Ansel flipped to the section of the book speaking about 'crates.' "Does it make you feel more safe and secure being in the crate?"

Scopes glared at him but didn't answer. Ansel opened the crate. "It says you should get plenty of exercise to stay fit and healthy though, that's important." 

Scopes slipped out of the cage and started to stretch his limbs, trying to rub some feeling back into them. Ansel picked up Orla's notes then. "Come on, let's go get breakfast while I read this."

They sat down in the dining room, the household so much emptier now, with even his father away, it was just servants around, mostly. Unless some of his other relatives were staying and if they were he hadn't seen them since the party. 

Ansel was served oatmeal with fresh berries and cream. The servant began to put Scopes' bowl on the floor. "Table," Ansel said, distracted. 

"Young Master?"

Ansel just tapped the space beside him where Scopes was sitting and went back to reading. The servant obeyed. He flipped back through again to the food section. 

"So… oh. You're meant to eat on the floor in case you get ideas above your station? But floors are dirty why would you want to eat there? People walk on them all the time. I suppose if it's cultural it's different, I know some cultures eat off the floor, and poor people too might I guess if they can't afford tables or servants. Do you like sitting on the floor?"

Scopes shrugged. 

"Ewww…" Scopes' meal was a sort of greyish pink sludge. "Just a second." Ansel grabbed the bowl and headed back towards the kitchen. "You served the wrong thing."

"Young Master?" 

"Scopes' food is off, and, what is it?"

"I assure you, young Master that all the food made here is extremely fresh. Mistress Orla has provided us with an extensive dietary plan that will provide her new familiar with the exact nutrition he requires."

"Have you tasted it?" Ansel asked. 

"Master, that would not be appropriate."

"Aren't cooks meant to taste everything they make?"

"It would be inappropriate to eat pet-food, young master. It has been specifically calibrated, by the Mistress Orla to fulfill only her familiar's needs."

"Show me her instructions?"

The cook brought them to Ansel who glanced at them. "I'm going to take this through to read it. I'll give it back later." He headed back through to the dining room, but the cook called out to stop him. 

"Young Master, we had very clear orders that the familiar must be fed every single day. If it pleases you we will return his meal to him."

"Okay." Ansel returned, glancing at Scopes who was sitting exactly as he'd been left. The book pages though… he was sure he'd left the pages open on the dietary section and not the one on rewards. Nevermind. 

The servant once more placed Scopes' bowl of slurry in front of him and then retreated. 

Ansel picked up a spoon, dipped it into the slurry and scooped up a tiny amount. It was one of the least appetising things he'd ever seen let alone smelled. There was no way he was going to be able to taste it without gagging. 

"She's got nothing down here about flavour. Do you like this? What is it even?"

Scopes signed something but Ansel didn't understand..

"You eat this a lot?"

Scopes shook his head. 

Ansel looked back at Orla's dietary plan and flipped a page over. "OH. It's a meatshake. This has to be a mistake. She can't have meant you to eat this every day. I'm sure it's just meant to be a supplementary thing if you really want it. If you're unwell. You could get all this other ways too I'm sure. I'll do research. Once I've learned how to sign. If you want?"

Scopes stomach grumbled. 

"Do you want the oatmeal?" Ansel pushed it over. "Unless you'd rather your meatshake. I don't mean to judge I know…"

Scopes immediately grabbed the bowl and started shovelling oatmeal into his mouth before Ansel could change his mind. He then gestured to Ansel, tilting his head as if questioning. 

"Oh I can just get seconds or firsts. I'm good. I've got to finish reading this dietary plan first though. Let me cross-reference it with the training manual." As Ansel did that he frowned all the more.,

There were sections on food as punishment and food as reward. That sort of thing their mother frowned heavily upon and Ansel was relieved to see Orla's notes repeating those thoughts. 

'Familiar must have at least one nutritionally balanced meal per day in order to maintain health. More may be required in regards to age and level of exertion.' 

'Commercially made food appears to be inadequate and created of lower quality ingredients and filler.'

'Familiars may have allergies or sensitive stomachs.' The section beneath that went on a lot. 

'Familiars may use food as a power-play. If they refuse to eat do not force them. When they are hungry they will do so. If they claim to be hungry after eating consider revising their dietary plan. Familiars may eat more when bored or not properly stimulated. Many have been trained to see food as a reward which leads to disordered eating.' 

Proper care of a familiar was complicated.

Ansel glanced up to meet Scopes' eyes who'd been looking at no not him. The papers? "Were you reading?"

Those amber eyes dipped down. 

"Can you write?"

No answer at all.

"You can read?"

Scopes nodded. 

"If I gave you a slate and chalk could you talk to me?"

Scopes considered it, and signed something Ansel didn't understand. 

"Just until I learn to sign. It'll make it easier for me to learn."

Scopes nodded. 

Ansel beamed. "Let's go get them, then we can get to work on all this and fix all the mistakes and have a better plan."

They went through to the study and picked up the tools and then Ansel realised it was such a lovely day outside so they went into the garden instead, and it would have been more efficient if he took all the work with him, but the books had said exercise was important, and exploring his father's gardens and clambering up trees and walls was definitely exercise. 

And when it came time for dinner, Ansel just shared his own food with Scopes and quietly disposed of the slop they were trying to serve up.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Past ******

********

********

Ansel accidentally spilled an entire jug of water over the meal plan, and then set it on fire when he tried to dry it. The cook wasn't happy, initially, but Ansel smoothed things over, taking full responsibility for the mishap. 

It wasn't as if the cook wanted to make pet-food anyway. It was a waste of his considerable talents. 

They'd spent a blissful Summer together, having free rein of his father's extensive library. 

Every time Ansel was around Scopes he was just overwhelmed with such affection. It was understandable. He was just so cute and adorable and snuggly and bright and brilliant and perfect and fun.

Ansel adored him. He'd find himself gazing at the familiar instead of studying, and his thoughts kept drifting that way and he just adored him. They were inseparable until Orla returned. 

She was furious. 

It had been nice. But then Orla had returned, and whisked Scopes away and… 

"Ansel you can't treat him like he's a person. He's a tool. You'll just confuse him. Familiars need a firm sense of boundaries and to know their place. It's the only way for them to thrive. He's not a pet for you to play with."

"You left him. I didn't think you wanted him."

"Of course I want him. He is an extremely expensive piece of magical equipment and is absolutely essential for my classes. He is not a pet, nor a toy."

"You could get another," Ansel pleaded. "Just ask Father, he'll get you another, something you'll like more."

"If I asked for another familiar he would wish to know why. Do you wish to explain to Father about how you ruined the familiar he carefully selected for me? Do you want him to send Scopes back? He will be angry. There is absolutely no way that he will allow you to keep any familiar let alone one of Scopes' pedigree and training."

"If…"

"I don't want to hear it. I can't believe how selfish you've been. You know how important this is to me and you've sought to sabotage me. I'm going to have to undo all the bad habits you've instilled in him. How could you do so much harm in so little time? And I don't want you speaking to him again. It will just confuse him all the more."

Naturally Ansel didn't listen, until Orla made certain he had no choice in the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should be the end of flashbacks now and skipping back to present.


	5. Meeting Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the present, a much older Ansel and Scopes meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks ended. This follows on from Chapter 1.

**The Present ******

********

********

This time Ansel carefully looked over the papers that Orla brought to him, signing them to claim ownership before she could change her mind. Typically he'd have expected to inspect the familiar first, but he knew Scopes, and these were Scopes' papers. He checked and double-checked and everything looked to be in order. Contracts signed, ownership transferred and Scopes was finally his.

Orla had Scopes delivered to the mansion the very next day, brought by servants and a carriage. It had been too long since Ansel had seen him.

Scopes had grown tall and far thinner than he'd been. There was a sharpness to him that had been absent before. Ansel had thought himself past that sharp stab of longing, the dull ache inside, the desire to reach out and touch those dark, feathered ear tufts or to just pull the familiar into his arms for a hug. 

Scopes was pale as a ghost, the only colour to him those luminescent amber eyes, the rest of him white and mottled grey and black.

"Orla's given you to me." Ansel had expected some sort of reaction. Something. Anything.

Scopes made absolutely no show of having even heard Ansel. 

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." Ansel immediately regretted the command.

Amber eyes snapped upon him, staring right through him. 

"Thank you." This felt completely wrong. "I know it's going to take a little adjustment to change owners, especially since you've been with Orla so long." 

Scopes kept staring at him, face blank.

"Are you hungry? Is there anything I should know?"

No response at all.

"Answer me."

There was no answer.

"I know you can sign."

Still nothing. 

"Write it then?" Ansel scrambled about for a pen and paper. Scopes just remained there, looming. He was taller than Ansel now or so it seemed. Ansel had never managed to have that last much-wished for growth spurt of his teenage years. Ansel was short, and not in a frail delicate way, but instead stocky and solid.

Scopes did not take the pen and paper. He just kept staring, eyes tracking Ansel. It was unsettling, that unblinking gaze, moreso for the complete lack of emotion behind it.

Ansel sighed. "Are you tired? I hope you're okay sharing my room. It's only until we go to my university residence. You'll have been there before, with Orla, huh? Follow me."

Scopes did exactly as he was told. 

"I don't know how to do this." Ansel admitted. What had Orla done to Scopes? How could he fix it? "I'll give you a little time to yourself to get settled in. Take the bed or the one on the floor, whichever you prefer. Have a nap if you want."

Ansel left trying his best not to fall to pieces. There had to be a way to make things better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapters for me
> 
> Scopes is based on a white-faced scops owl, also known as the transformer owl. He doesn't have wings but does have feathers that he can fluff up or flatten down in his hair, around his face, shoulders, dusting down his arms and sparse elsewhere. Also those orange eyes and taloned fingers.


	6. Silent Owl

Scopes had arrived with no belongings, not even a change of clothes. 

"It is important for a familiar to be equipped by each new master so that they can better adjust to the changes," Orla had said. 

It seemed cruel and petty to deprive them of things they found comforting. 

Scopes folded himself into the window and just stared outside. Ansel left him to it while he went to get food. Meat skewers with a sticky sweet glaze, pillowy-soft flatbread, an assortment of other little dishes filled with small bursts of flavour. Ansel was going to miss his father's chef when he attended university.

Ansel gathered up the food on a tray and brought it to his room, where he tried to tempt Scopes with small morsels to absolutely no reaction. 

"Eat. Please." And Scopes did so, mechanically chewing, showing absolutely no delight in the flavours of their meal. 

The silence felt uncomfortably awkward.

"You're free to attend to your needs without asking for permission. If you need to. And read if you want to. Most of my books are already at the apartment, but if there's anything you want I can get it." Ansel spoke just to say something. And lacking a reaction he kept talking.

"I'll give you some more time to adjust then. If you want to nap." It was like talking to a wall. There was absolutely no sign he was heard at all. 

Orla was gone, of course, so there'd be no answers from her. Unless she'd chosen to write about it in her thesis. There was a copy in the library but Ansel didn't particularly want to read it. He grabbed it anyway and stuffed it in his bag. He could read it later. Or never. Or burn it, if that could undo the years of whatever harm she'd done. 

Ansel returned to the room as it was getting dark, and Scopes didn't appear to have even moved. Ansel picked up one of the soft blankets, draped it over him, and then readied himself for bed. 

That morning Scopes took the news they were moving the exact way he took everything Ansel told him, with absolutely no reaction. Scopes did exactly as he was told. Nothing more, nothing less. Apart from communicate. 

Ansel felt lost and hopeless. There had to be something he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter things should happen! Next!


	7. Trapped in the Closet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two tiny chapters today! :)

The city apartment had an incredible view, and huge windows that let in so much light, and that opened wide to allow access to a trellised balcony. It was tiny in size, compared to the homes Ansel was used to living in, but the size was more than made up by how convenient it was to university, and also the incredible views.

Home for the next five years. 

Ansel just hadn't expected to be here with Scopes.

"So, you've lived here before, with Orla? You'll know it better than I do." Which might be true, or not. It's not like he was ever invited to visit when Orla studied at university. He had been to see other family members, and of course in preparation for moving in himself. 

Ansel opened the door to the small kitchen/dining-room area. There wasn't even any servants in residence. 

"Can you cook? Clean?" Ansel asked, mostly for the sake of making noise, but again Scopes didn't respond. It was going to be a lonely few days, weeks, months. Ansel supposed he could try ordering Scopes to do such things, it couldn't be that difficult, most servants managed. "Opal was going to take care of everything. She enjoyed keeping busy and being useful. She liked cleaning and cooking and putting everything right. She was good at it too." 

Opal. It still hurt.

Ansel moved through the apartment, Scopes following him. The apartment had a relatively small master bedroom, and a walk-in-closet that Opal had claimed as her own room. 

Ansel opened the door of the closet to the riot of colour Opal had placed there, and realised that that wouldn't work at all. Opal had liked small cosy places. She felt safe and protected inside. She'd planned to fill it with treasures and it was going to be her space. But Scopes was different.

The closet door slammed into Ansel's back and he fell forward into the closet, hands flailing to steady him on the walls. It was suddenly dark. He scrambled and twisted around, pushed against the door to find it jammed. 

The wind must have… 

He pushed harder against the door and it wouldn't budge, and he hadn't even realised that the door locked that way. There was no handle on the inside and no way to get purchase. 

He took a few deep, calming breaths, the closet already beginning to feel stuffy. But it wasn't air tight and he'd be okay. "Scopes, can you open the door please?"

No response. He hadn't expected anything different.

"Open the door." 

He hoped Scopes was okay.

Ansel could, undoubtedly break the door open, back against the wall, kick out against it, but then he'd need to repair it, and if his family heard he'd got stuck in the closet the very first day… which they would if he got anyone to repair it and… focus. 

He placed both hands on the door and felt. Wood. Solid. Dead. With a history of its own. He felt. Walls. Metal for the lock. Why did the closet have a lock? It was simple once he touched it to push the lock in, allowing the door to swing open and for light to flood in. 

Scopes was… still there, kneeling on the floor by the door… proper familiar pose… Ansel choked out a laugh, relieved. "Who else would get themselves stuck in a closet. Just don't tell anyone." As if Scopes would. 

As if Scopes could.

"I could do with a drink. Do you want one?" Ansel headed back for the kitchen, opening the cupboards to realise everything was bare. Was he supposed to? Water. He poured himself out some water. And some for Scopes too just in case.


	8. Fish

"I'm going to go get some food. Do you want to come, or would you rather stay here?" Ansel asked. "We could get you some new clothes too. Pick you up something to read too if you want."

Scopes looked blankly at him. 

"If you'd rather stay that's okay too. If you'll be okay on your own."

Ansel sighed. "Okay. Well, you stay here. I won't be too long and if you decide you want to go out later we can do that. If you're bored in the meantime, most of the books are in the study if you want to read them. Or have a nap. Or whatever you want."

Ansel returned to find Scopes sitting in the window-seat, staring outside. "Everything okay?" Scopes eyes went to him as he spoke, following orders. Nothing seemed to have changed. "Groceries are so complicated. Opal was going to take charge of all that. I got us fish. You still like that? And bread. And there's some new clothes for you, only a few things until we can go out together.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how to help you. This is my dream, you know. If I could have had any familiar, I wanted you. From that very first day we met, I used to dream that we'd work great magics together. You were smart. Good. Perfect. Whatever Orla did, I'll try and fix."

Scopes turned to stare outside again. Was there a flicker of something there, in the eyes of his reflection? 

The fish wasn't a large one, but it was whole which presented something of a challenge because when it was served on his plate usually it was not whole, and there was seldom skin or bones or a head. And it was cooked. Apart from when it wasn't. 

"Scopes?" Ansel called, to no response. He sighed, turned, only to find the familiar standing right behind him. Ansel smiled. "I was wondering if you knew what to do with fish? I'm not even sure where to start." Maybe if he tried an order? "Could you…" he gestured, "deal with lunch?"

Scopes looked at the knife, he looked at Ansel, and without breaking eye contact he picked up the fish, by the tail, and devoured it in two bites, head, bones, and all. 

Ansel blinked. Right. Raw fish… was a thing and… owls… and… "I would have cooked it for us." Scopes kept staring, unblinking. It was unsettling, unnerving even. And it shouldn't be. That was Scopes. Cute, adorable, Scopes who he'd had a perfect Summer with.

"You could have said no. It would have been ok. I didn't mean for you to… I've just, um, never done any of this before, you know. We always had servants… and then I was going to have Opal, and now I don't have anyone… apart from you, if you're even there anymore."

Scopes continued to stare at him and Ansel sighed. Maybe there'd be something about this in one of his many familiar books. Some way he could help.


	9. Ansel talks too much

Ansel kept talking to Scopes, throughout the day, hoping that perhaps something would get through to him, that perhaps it would help. He spoke about everything on his mind, his worries about school and his classes and making his family proud. His plans for the apartment and the next five years.

Scopes sat and stared out the window, looking at nothing as far as Ansel could see. Ansel felt about ready to just order Scopes to read or something but forcing it felt weird. He didn't want to ruin something Scopes used to enjoy by forcing him to do it. 

"You can help yourself to any of the books if you want. Opal wasn't much of a reader, but if you still are I can suggest some good ones. I miss Opal," Ansel said. "I wish it could be both you and her here. You'd like her, a lot, she's so nice, like you."

Scopes turned, suddenly, his movements sharp and angry. "Get her back." Scopes signed. And then he turned away to look back outside. 

Ansel barely believed it. He hadn't imagined it. Hadn't.

Scopes was there. He was in there. Not dead inside. Not destroyed. Relief washed over Ansel, and joy and he just wanted to hug and he stepped closer, touched a feathered shoulder…

Scopes hissed, amber eyes full of fury, feathers spiking up. 

"Scopes you're you, I'm so glad. I thought you were gone. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. You're safe now. Everything's going to be okay."

Scopes deliberately turned his back again, not the slightest bit comforted. 

What had Scopes signed? 

"I can't get Opal back. I loved her and I miss her and I wish I could have done something but I can't. She was never mine. I messed up. Orla sold her and she's gone. But that's not going to happen to you. I got the paperwork sorted out this time and no one can take you away again."

Scopes stood and turned to face Ansel. He loomed, feathers making him even larger, and there was nothing soft about him, just bristling rage. Ansel was too relieved that Scopes was finally communicating to feel any fear.

"Avians pair bond." Every gesture an accusation. 

"Yes. I know. I was careful not to with Opal. She's not in love with me. I don't love her that way. She's just like a little sister that I have to look after and protect. We spoke about it." Scopes continued to glare as Ansel spoke. "I know I failed her. I didn't expect Orla to take her away like that. I wasn't going to let her bond to me. I read all of the books on how to avoid it. It would have been cruel. We were going to look for a companion for her when and if she wanted one."


	10. Get her back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two short chapters today. (There's one previous to this one.) 
> 
> Since twentygoldberries said "I wonder what Scopes is thinking" this chapter's for them.

\- Scopes View - 

The Boy. The Mage - do not think of his name - would not shut up. He prattled on and on and on. Scopes stared out of the window, furiously. 

Betrayed. 

Mistress had promised that she would not sell him. He was the fool for believing her.

The Mage was still as incompetent as ever. He hadn't changed. Hadn't grown. Hadn't learned.

Scopes hated him. That hatred seethed inside.

How dare you speak of being powerless!

How dare you say there's nothing you can do! 

He was always on about Opal. Opal. Opal. Opal. 

The first time Scopes had let it flow over him, drifting away on the breeze. But the Mage kept blowing and blowing until Scopes was ready to blow up.

He should have been able to last longer than a day. All that behavioural training and he found he didn't care. 

"Get her back." 

It was simple. Like the Mage. 

Stupid. Like the Mage. 

Scopes did not want to spell it out for him. 

Mages knew nothing of loyalty.

How dare he break his promises. 

Again.

"Avians pair bond." Scopes accused. And The Mage completely missed the point.


	11. He's not coming back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to many years ago, just after Scopes and Ansel's perfect Summer, when they are first separated.
> 
> Orla tells Scopes her plans for him.

Scopes Flashback!

"He's not coming back." The woman who claimed she was his mistress, had said. 

Liar. Scopes ignored her. 

He'd wait. 

And he did. 

Stubbornly.

"I had never intended to leave you in Ansel's care. My youngest brother is an extremely irresponsible child and I did not expect him to deliberately sabotage my plans for you. I am sorry that you must bear the consequences of his ill-considered actions."

Scopes was the same age as the boy. Scopes wanted to do something about her speaking badly of the Boy, but there was nothing he could do. 

So he kept ignoring her. 

And he kept waiting.

He almost wished the Boy hadn't introduced him to a vibrant world of flavours and textures in food and so much possibilities. They felt almost like a dream now those memories sweeter than any cake. 

Scopes ate only because he knew the Boy would be upset if he didn't. 

"I have devised a diet that will ensure you remain in peak physical condition. You will never be punished, or rewarded, with food. If you choose not to eat then no alternative will be provided."

Scopes had already read her dietary plan before the boy had set it on fire.

Scopes knew that the woman who thought she owned him did not partake of such a diet herself. They never did. Her food was never mushed up into one homogeneous bar. Her food never rotated through all the same ugly shades browns, greys, greens and puce. The only variety in the food was the consistency, and how sometimes one terrible flavour was replaced with another. 

There was no joy in food. No pleasure in it. Food was fuel. Which would have been easier to swallow if THEY held to the same philosophy. 

"I know you have behavioural issues." The new Mistress had said.

Scopes could not retort that he knew she had them too.

"That comes with extreme intelligence, particularly if it's not being utilised productively. I have hired a physical trainer who who will create a personal exercise regime for you to help with your excess energy and allow you to channel your aggression productively. You will learn to meditate and calm yourself. I also have a learning programme to ensure that you are mentally engaged." 

She never once asked Scopes his opinion.

Here he had nothing that was his own. Even his name was hers. 

Scopes kept waiting for the boy to return.

He never did.


	12. That Perfect Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More flashbacks!

Flashback! - That Perfect Summer

Scopes was wearing a large bell that jangled loudly as he walked. He did not look happy at all.

"Where'd you get that from?" Ansel had asked.

"Old woman." Scopes signed.

"Aunt Greta?" Ansel smiled sympathetically. "She's awful."

"Too quiet." Scopes signed. "Stop sneaking." He hmphed silently. "Too loud. Shut up. Too quiet. Too loud." As he signed his frustration grew until he started shaking the bell frenetically, the jingle-jangling deafening in its noise. 

Ansel grimaced at the noise and reached out to touch Scopes shoulder, to soothe the feathers there. "I know. It's so unfair."

"First they make me silent. Then they make me loud." 

"They made you silent? But you're already quiet."

Scopes made a knife gesture with fingers across his throat, clicking his tongue. "Stop crying. Stop laughing. Stop being so loud." His shoulders slumped miserably. That loss had still been recent, painful, bitter. 

Ansel wrapped him up into a hug, soft and warm and not constricting at all. He murmured comforting, sympathetic words. For the first time in so long Scopes felt like someone understood. Cared. 

Ansel never asked what Scopes had done to deserve the bell. He never assumed Scopes was automatically in the wrong. 

They played games with the bell. Scopes practiced sneaking up on Ansel without cheating, or it ringing at all. It was all in the movement. They'd run through the hallways at night, jangling, to Aunt Greta's yelling, and frustration when she opened the door and it was Ansel wearing the bell.

They had fun. 

Scopes hated the Boy and that summer filled with lies. 

\- After Summer -

"If it had been my choice I would not have taken your voice. I do not agree with such barbaric alterations. It just shows a lack of skill in a trainer." The Mistress had said. 

They came to a truce. It wasn't completely terrible. He was kept busy, active, it was never boring. He even got to attend classes with her. 

Silence, and his ability to go unnoticed, was a gift that allowed him to learn more than he should. He folded down small, and was easily overlooked. 

He worked on training her to allow him to do the things he wanted to. Training a mage was a set of challenges that wasn't in any book. There were no trainers to teach him how, especially not one with extreme behavioural problems that he had difficulties communicating with.


	13. Unlucky Black Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13. Time for something Unlucky.
> 
> (Edit: Added on a bit here instead of posting a new chapter.)

\- Scopes with Orla -

Scopes was soft and plump and short and while he'd had fun scampering around after Ansel, the notion of a physical trainer sounded like sheer torture. He'd intended to completely ignore the trainer until they went away. 

The moment he heard the trainer's arrival, he climbed out of the window and onto the roof, and then waited for them to go away. He wasn't hiding. Orla had simple spells to locate him when he tried that. He was just up here, enjoying the view, in a place that Orla could not easily get to.

It was a nice day and he liked the height. 

He heard the creature before he saw it, clambering swiftly up the wall. He waited, silent but alert. A pair of ears peeked over the edge, followed by startling emerald eyes, and then the rest of a huge black cat. 

"Little birdie, little birdie, where are you hiding?" It's purr filled with menace. Its nose twitched delicately, whiskers flickering. "Are you scared little birdie? Is that your heartbeat racing to escape."

It wasn't. Scopes was not a little birdie, he was predator not prey. 

Flight or fight? Cats were swift. Fast. But this one didn't know the layout of the house or the garden. He could run. He could hide.

Instead he leapt from his hiding spot, hissing, feathers flared, launching himself at the cat intent on knocking it off the roof, taking full advantage of the element of surprise. 

He hit it solidly in the chest, and it didn't even waver, standing strong. It was large for a cat, its whole body a rumbling purr of amusement as it grappled him down and pinned him. 

"Aren't you a cute one."

Scopes hissed but ceased struggling.

"So you're the dear sweet birdie I've been asked to train. Glad to see you're not boring. Thought I was going to spend weeks coaxing you into swinging a single punch."

Scopes' confusion must have shown on his face. The cat chuckled. "You and I are going to have so much fun."

Scopes arms were still pinned, he couldn't speak, so he hissed his disagreement instead. 

"That's the spirit. I'm going to let you up now, and you can run, or try and attack me again if you want. Or you can sit and talk and we can discuss the plan. That's our plan, you and me, not whatever our masters are discussing downstairs."

Scopes really, really wanted to fight him some more. He'd lose though. He had to be clever about this. He nodded slightly and when the full weight of cat rolled off him, he sat up as he was asked to. 

"You're my trainer?" He signed, hoping he was understood. 

"Yes. I'm going to do all the hard work. My master's just going to take all the credit. Isn't that the way of things?"

"I'm not training."

The cat tilted its head to the side, quizzically. "Thought you were smart. Guess they're right, owls are all big eyes and little brains."

Scopes hissed.

"Don't you want to make sure next time you attack me you're actually effective? What was the term she used? Constructively channel your aggression? If that doesn't appeal to you then surely the promise of months and months with my magnificent presence does."

Scopes rolled his eyes. 

"You're so adorably grumpy and cute. You'll have to deal with the Master too, of course. Who knows, you might even have fun."

Scopes doubted it. 

He was so wrong.

-

"You're small, unfit, and have all the strength of a wet noodle." Vex declared.

Scopes scowled. 

"You're far lighter than you should be."

"Bird." Not that Scopes had ever had wings. Scopes envied those that did, and who could use them to fly and glide. 

"Do your bones break easily?"

Scopes shrugged. 

"Have you ever broken anything?"

Scopes shook his head.

"Well there is that. Show me your talons."

Scopes swiped at him, knowing his wrist would be caught. Vex stroked velvet fingertips over the pulse point, while examining the hand. He squeezed the hand gently, Scopes attempted to crush Vex's hand in return.

"Strong. Sharp." Vex smiled. "Same on your feet?"

Scopes nodded.

"Quite a handshake you have there. Do your talons break easily?"

Scopes shook his head, and let go of the hand. 

"There's plenty to work with. The element of surprise will be your best weapon. Strike fast and get away if you can. We can work on some routine exercises to get you into better shape."

"What's the point?" Scopes asked. 

"What's the point in anything? It'll be fun. It's learning something new. You get to spend time with me. Do you have anything better to do."

"Read. Sleep."

Vex chuckled. "I am allowed to use reading as a reward."

"Don't care."

"My master has a library, full of books. Some of them even have words in them. I could talk him into letting you have a look around. Maybe even let you read something to me."

Scopes scowled.

It took Vex a moment to remember. "Oh. I'm a bastard. Sorry. I forgot."

"How can you forget?" Scopes signed.

Vex grimaced. "Your current Mistress did it?"

Scopes shook his head.

"Could be worse," Vex said. "My previous master kept threatening to chop my balls off if I didn't stop being so aggressive. She thought it'd improve my temperament. Can't think of much that would have made me angrier."

Scopes' eyes widened in horror. "Did she?"

"Want to check and find out?"

Scopes laughed, silently, shaking his head. 

"I've been with my current master ten years. He's very glad that she didn't." Vex continued onwards. "He has lots of medical books and things in his library. Plenty of pictures."

Scopes stared blankly.

"Oh come on," Vex said. "I set that one up for you. You're meant to say 'of balls' and then I say sure and then embarass him by showing you his stash of erotic books."

"Don't care. Can he fix me?"

"He's not a healer. But maybe there'd be something in the books - the medical ones, not the erotic ones - that could tell you if someone can. If your mistress doesn't object."

"I want to see the books." Scopes signed. "I will do what it takes."

Scopes tried to learn fast, but his body was slower than his mind. Muscles ached in ways they never had before, and he usually ended up going to bed utterly exhausted. Which supposedly fixed his behavioural issues. He just didn't have the time or energy. 

Eventually though he gained access to those books, and certainly he could have found medical and anatomical books elsewhere, but he'd have otherwise needed to seek his mistress' approval and he wasn't sure if she'd agree. He wasn't even certain she knew what his physical training involved. 

Self defence. Weak spots. Pressure points. Holds. Throws. Tricks. He quickly realised he was never going to be great at it, but it didn't really matter. It was fun and he wasn't quite so angry all the time. 

The books were everything that Vex said they'd be but it was all far too complicated for Scopes to understand. He'd never felt so stupid as when he tried to puzzle his way through them and work out if what had been done to him was reversible. He needed to start from the beginning, or speak to someone who had medical knowledge, but with his own training, and lessons, and Orla's schoolwork and his role as her familiar, he just didn't have time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew Scopes was getting taught by someone, couldn't work out if it was a bird, or a bunny, or who until I read the most recent chapter and poor Blue and his "I'm not an unlucky black cat!" AWWWWW POOR BLUE!!!! Blue is the sweetest cat.
> 
> So Vex is entirely AwkwardDragon's fault.


	14. Invitation to Orla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some content warnings at the bottom notes. Not sure if I should put them at the bottom or at the top. Changed the fics tags too.

\- Scopes Flashback - Near the end of Orla's first year of university. 

"Orla," Marcel Dubois was said to be charming, handsome too, and he knew it. Not that Scopes' mistress cared for such things. He did not shine academically and he was rarely of interest to her. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Why?" Orla asked coldly. She'd been sitting in the academy library, catching up on her reading.

"What're you reading?" Marcel tilted the book up, to Orla's annoyance, so he could look at the cover. "Isn't that next semester's optional material?"

"Yes." Orla replied. She may as well have said 'go away I'm reading.' He failed to get the hint.

Marcel smiled. "Don't you ever take a break from studying?. I've got an invitation for a party here," he waved it, "I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?"

"No." 

Scopes loved parties. There was always so much food on offer and so very few people paying attention to him that as long as he was quiet and unobtrusive, he could usually feast on the delicacies, while eavesdropping on conversations.

Orla, who was morally averse to fun, but understood the importance of making connections, even if not the proper methods of doing so, was unfortunately far less fond of attending them. She was invited for her family name, her family money, her family connections, certainly not her sparkling personality and conversation skills. Which was probably what Marcel was up to here.

"Wait, hear me out. It's on a Friday night, so it's not like you'll miss any school. All the movers and shakers are going to be there. You've heard of Aymeric Hennequin? It's a very exclusive crowd of magicians, and for first years to attend is almost unheard of."

Orla looked up. "Why aren't you taking Tasha?"

"We broke up weeks ago. Besides I'd much rather take you. Tasha was fun, but she's not the sort of girl you bring along to these events."

"It will not be a date."

"Of course not, you made your feelings on dating abundantly clear when you publicly humiliated Augustin."

"He's your friend."

"He's dating Tasha." Marcel's shoulders slumped. "I caught them together. I thought everyone had heard."

Scopes hadn't heard that gossip. He tried to catch Orla's attention and shake his head slightly. She didn't look his way though.

"You're inviting me for revenge."

"I wouldn't put it that way." 

"I would."

Marcel laughed. "That's what I like about you. You're always direct and to the point. You're very intelligent and I would like to get to know you better, even if it is as just friends."

"You'll owe me," Orla said.

"Of course," Marcel agreed. "I'll see you there then. Wear something pretty."

Scopes waited for Marcel to leave before signing. "He's lying."

"I already worked it out," Orla dismissed him. "He's trying to use me. I'll use him. You like parties."

"This isn't your type of party." Scopes had heard rumours of exactly what sort it was. "They're wild."

"I know all about the sort of parties they are. My father is a great one for throwing parties. We'll leave before things get too raucous."

Scopes knew she wasn't going to listen to him. She already knew everything.

-

Scopes was striking dressed all in white. With his arms and shoulders bare, the feathers that ran down them on full display. His boots were reinforced, he polished his claws, he painted his face to emphasise how inhuman he was, and he was as ready as he would be for battle. 

Be strange. Be alien. Be scary. Then none of them would want to touch him. If they saw him. The best defence was to be unseen.

Orla dressed in ice-blue mage robes and she'd borrowed a girl to help get her ready. She really could be pretty when she tried. She'd inherited her father's good looks and her mother's full figure, and she cared nothing for either of those things. Whereas Ansel… no. Scopes shut off those thoughts. 

-

Marcel collected them, and the compliments flowed easily and Scopes didn't like it one bit. Orla fake-smiled a few times, pretending to enjoy herself in that way she had when they weren't talking about her interests but she was trying to make a good impression. 

They arrived at the private club that had been hired for the night. They weren't early. Marcel would not be early. And it wasn't as bad as Scopes feared. Everyone, including the familiars, were actually dressed, although some more scanty than others, and there were no open displays of debauchery, yet. 

Maybe he had been worrying over nothing. 

Orla did her social best and Scopes followed her, a silent shadow, until Marcel whisked her off onto the dancefloor, and he lost her in the crowd. 

Usually she'd find a group of similarly minded academic students and talk work, but almost everyone was older, and there were few faces familiar to Scopes present.

Usually Scopes would hunt down some food but his stomach lurched at that idea. Time passed and he caught up with Orla a few times, and she was smiling, relaxed, laughing, nothing like her usual self. And maybe it had just taken the attention of a beautiful man to cause her to loosen up, and let her hair down for once.

Maybe she'd just needed friends to help her thaw out. 

"Does your familiar have to keep looming around? He's really creepy, isn't he?"

Orla giggled. Scopes had never heard her giggle in her life and here she was, giggling. "Scoops, go play with the others."

An obedient familiar would never disobey his mistress' orders. Scopes, however was not obedient. He took a few steps away as if he was doing what he was told, only to find Marcel leading her out of the room, Orla leaning on him.

Scopes followed, silent as could be. 

The noise of the party, and of the musicians, made it trickier to follow by sound. 

Predator. Think silent predator thoughts. 

Scopes walked by the first few doors and swung open the door where he heard Orla giggling. Her clothes were in disarray, moreso than Marcel's, and he was pawing at her. 

Marcel laughed. "Looks like your familiar's jealous." 

"Go away Scoops," Orla giggled. Her pupils were blown wide. The medical books said something about that. Concussion? And she was acting drunk? And she'd yet to freeze Marcel for pawing at her. 

"It's time to go home." Scopes signed. 

Marcel didn't understand and Orla didn't listen, wasn't really focusing on him. 

"Listen to your Mistress. She doesn't want you." Marcel said. "Or do the two of you get freaky in private? She never seemed like the sort."

"Ewww." Orla agreed. 

Scopes wanted his voice. Needed his voice. But he didn't have one and he was stuck waving his hands about uselessly. Marcel stood up, and he was taller than Scopes, and he paced forward, expecting Scopes to back off out the door. "Time to leave."

Scopes stood his ground, hissing a warning. Marcel shoved him. Scopes ducked, lashing out with the reinforced boot to stomp on Marcel's instep. The Mage yelled, Scopes pushed past in order to grab Orla, but she was heavy and uncoordinated and Marcel was grabbing for him.

Scopes lashed out, raking his claws across Marcel's face... throat? There was blood and screaming, and Scopes forcefully dragged Orla to the nearest exit. Window. Same thing. He forced her out of it, followed suit, and dragged her to the nearest carriage with all his strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for nonconsensual drug use, and non-graphic sexual assault.


	15. Invitation Aftermath

Scopes paid the driver to help carry Orla up the stairs.

If she was just drunk she'd be furious if he called a doctor. If she was drugged it might wear off. She was fiercely protective of her privacy and would hate for anyone to know what happened. 

But what if it was more serious? Scopes had no idea about intoxication and drugs or what might have been used or how to help. He changed out of his own ruined outfit and washed the blood off his feathers as best as he could. 

He hadn't slashed Marcel's throat, had he? There'd been screaming and he couldn't have screamed without a throat. It was a lot of blood for the face. Wasn't it? Marcel would be ok. A party full of mages, some would know healing. Worry about that later. Worry about Orla now.

Should he get a doctor? Should he contact her family?

He helped Orla out of her own clothes. Gave her water to drink and kept an eye on her, hoping that everything would be okay.  
-

"Write your observations of everything that happened yesterday evening," Orla ordered him the next morning. She'd her back to him before he could even ask if she was all right. She disappeared into the kitchen. Scopes could hear her making tea or a potion or something. The apartment lacking a proper workroom, Orla used the kitchen. 

Orla liked reports to be factual. Straight and to the point. 

Orla rejected Augustin's proposal and he did not take it well.  
Marcel came to Orla with an invitation to Aymeric Hennequin's party.  
Marcel said that he and Tasha had broken up.  
Marcel claimed he had caught Tasha and Augustin together and that they were no longer friends.  
Mistress believed that Marcel wished to bring her to this party as revenge.  
I do not believe this to be his true motivations. I had heard nothing of any sort of break-up between any of the named people. Marcel and Augustin are known to share lovers. A fight between them would have been explosive and everyone would have talked about it. 

Scopes knew that Orla would not appreciate the above. It was all gossip and lack of gossip, the things he overheard both students, and their familiars speaking of. There was no real evidence. Just his own guesses. He started on a new sheet of paper. Dates. Times. Locations. He detailed down the facts. That they had attended the party. That his Mistress had appeared to be intoxicated. She had ordered him to leave twice and he disobeyed orders. That he'd manhandled his mistress from the party against her wishes. When Marcel attempted to stop him he attacked Marcel twice. 

He was in trouble. He knew he was in trouble. Once he had finished the report he took it to Orla who was still looking under the weather. She read it over carefully. 

"I do not understand why you did this." It was a statement, not a request for him to explain. "The reports said that your training was effective. I have ensured that all your needs are met. You're aware that what you did was wrong?"

Scopes nodded.

"Are you aware of the penalty for attacking a mage?"

Scopes could imagine. They were probably going to kill him. Only they didn't call it that, you couldn't execute a familiar it was just euthanise. Best case scenario he'd be mutilated and sold. Likely declawed at the very least. While he was not aware of the specific penalties particularly for his situation he could make a guess. He just nodded. It was simpler. 

"Then why did you go against several direct orders and attack him?"

"Mistress. You have stated that you had no desire for sex. You have never drunk to excess or partaken of recreational drugs. Your behaviour was extremely out of character."

"I don't understand." Orla repeated. "You have never shown any indication of being particularly fond of me." She'd fortunately never asked him to act affectionate. She barely touched him unless she considered it completely necessary. "Were you jealous?"

Scopes shook his head. 

"It doesn't make sense. You should be obedient. You should have done what I said." Orla glanced down at the report again, trying to decide what to do. "Go to your room and stay there. Do not answer the door."

That was an order Scopes obeyed.

-

Orla was very much not speaking to him. He hadn't even seen her since that conversation. She wasn't even home most of the time and he'd no idea where she was or what she was doing. 

Scopes' sole punishment appeared to be that he was confined to his room. No exercise save that which he could do in the room. Just the same handful of books. Food delivered three times a day by the same maid that cleaned but who did not know how to speak with him. And the monotony of isolation. His door wasn't locked and Orla had even left him with a window knowing perfectly well he could leave through it.

He'd at least expected to be locked in the cell in her room. The one with the hoops for shackles and the desperate clawmarks on the wall. 

He kept expecting people to show up to question him. Not that anyone would take a familiar's word over that of a mage. He kept expecting to be suddenly sold or to be dragged to the vet. He did all that he could to avoid thinking of worst case scenarios. Perhaps that was part of his punishment.

It would make things much simpler for her if he just flew away. But where would he go?


	16. Vex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some discussion of euthanising/executing sentient creatures because the fucked up magic society will be fucked up.

It was a week until the very welcome face of a troublesome cat appeared at his window. While certainly against the spirit of his current orders it wasn't against the actual wording, so Scopes let him in. Vex sprawled out on his bed as if he lived here. 

"Want to talk about it, birdie?" Vex asked. 

Scopes shook his head. 

"Come here then," Vex patted the bed beside him, Scopes sat down gingerly, only to find himself with an armful of cat. They squirmed until both were comfortable, with Vex behind Scopes, but positioned so he could peer over a shoulder and read Scopes' hands. "Okay. There. Better?" Vex was strong and warm and smelled good, for a cat at least. "You're clearly not sick. I did say if you started skipping our lessons I'd hunt you down, and now I've caught you."

"Some predator. I didn't even run."

"I know. I expected more of an exciting chase, like our first time."

"Sorry to disappoint." Scopes signed flippantly.

"Still with the attitude." The words were fond. "I heard a feathered familiar went crazy, tried to murder a mage for kissing his mistress. Any truth in that?"

"Yes." Scopes replied, which was evidentally not the response Vex expected. The cat cursed lightly under his breath. 

"I didn't think you and she had that sort of relationship."

"We don't." Scopes made the same face Orla did when anyone suggested it. "I'm creepy. She's cold."

"Only creepy when you realise that the adorable bundle of fluff and feathers is full of fury. I thought my teaching was helping. You were doing well with the meditation, and other exercises. You had constructive outlets for your emotions."

Scopes didn't know how to respond.

Vex grumbled. "I'm going to be in so much trouble if they find out how badly I failed you. Master might even get annoyed." 

"You're going to be in trouble." Scopes signed sharply. He pushed down the anger. "Is that why you're here?"

"Partially. I've never had a student lash out so spectacularly before. I'm extremely good at spotting if a familiar is going to present that sort of danger. You've only reosrted to physical violence when backed into a corner, and through fear response. We worked through it. You were doing so good at being desensitised to your main triggers. What went wrong?"

Scopes didn't reply.

"The strange thing is people aren't talking about it. I'd expect that it would be news. You're here, in your room, not even under guard. You've not been interrogated about it, have you?" Scopes shook his head. Then strong hands ran down Scopes' sides and then up his back. They'd worked on him not reacting to any sort of unwanted or unexpected touch so Scopes didn't hiss. "No signs of any sort of punishment. Are you certain you don't want to talk about it?"

Scopes nodded. It wouldn't help. Nothing would.

"I'll be here if you change your mind."

"Why?" Scopes signed, but he didn't care, didn't wait for an answer, instead he twisted around so he could see the cat. Vex was muscled and attractive and smelled really good and was his friend and was looking at him strangely. "Fly away with me."

"Oh birdbrain, I'm flattered that you'd ask..." 

Scopes kissed him before he could add a but or a no. Kissing was weird and mouths mashed together and Vex was not kissing back or doing anything and as first kisses went this one rather sucked so Scopes stopped.

"Hey," Vex said. "I know I'm one sexy cat, utterly irresistable but warn a guy first." 

"You petted me without permission first."

"Fair," Vex admitted. "You're going to be a heartbreaker when you're a bit older, aren't you?"

"If." 

"Huh?"

"If I get older." Scopes signed sharply, anger beginning to bubble in again. 

"Oh sweetheart. I'll make you a promise, if it comes down to that I'll do everything I can to help you." 

"Help kill me?" Scopes glared.

"No. Sweetheart, no. You know what I do, don't you? What Zaraki does?"

"Physical training."

Vex laughed. "All that work we did and you still think just physical training? Did you just ignore everything that wasn't hitting things?" 

Scopes nodded.

"Liar," Vex replied fondly. "Zaraki works on holistic training and rehabilitation. It's treating everything as a whole. Yadda yadda, ask him about it and he will explain to you at length. Again. Pay attention to the words and not his oh so sexy lips. No, don't shake your head, you know he's hot. He's strongly opposed to euthanising for behavioural issues. If it comes down to that, we'll find an alternative. But, I doubt that it will. Your Mistress has invested a great deal in you." 

"She doesn't even like me."

"Liking is over-rated. Relationships based on like can easily go sour the moment a master realises their pet isn't perfect. Masters are fickle. Some pets can spend every moment of their day catering to their masters every whim, and they still get disposed of, and traded in for something new."

"Even your master?"

"Yes. We grow old. We wear out. We get boring. They use us up or we exhaust ourselves keeping up with their demands. Even my Master who has the best intentions. Which is why I do everything I can to make myself invaluable to his business. It's why I worked extremely hard to earn the trust he has placed in me. He will replace me in his bed eventually but I am hoping that I've proven myself valuable enough that he will still keep me when that happens."

"When he does I will make Mistress purchase you."

"You will, huh?" Vex smiled.

Scopes nodded, his gaze intense. "That or we fly away."

"Believe me you don't want to end up as a stray. Neither do I."

"She will make you eat the meat-gloop. But I will catch you mice." 

Vex laughed. "Look at you here with your own room, not eating kibble, and she doesn't demand any sexual services from you. She gives you a lot of freedom and is careful how she uses you magically."

Scopes nodded.

"I'd say that's an improvement on being liked. And I've seen no signs that she dislikes you. You're an extremely valuable investment and she'll do what she can to protect that. She'll be out a year's labour, and all the money she's spent if she allows anything to happen to you. And there's no way she'd be able to recoup the financial investment you represent by selling you, let alone everything she's invested personally." 

"I was a gift." Scopes signs. 

"I'd assumed she'd chosen you personally the way she speaks of you."

Scopes shook his head. "Her father bought me."

"That should not change anything. You should speak to her."

"She's forbidden me to." Had she? No she'd just confined him to his room and he wasn't to open the door. "I will write a letter."

"There. You have a plan. I should get going." 

"Kiss me first?"

Vex laughed. "Still trying to seduce me, little birdie. You know that would be a terrible idea."

"Your Master forbids it?"

"As if he could. He knows what I'm like. I don't do feelings. Love. Any of that."

"Good. Neither do I."

"You," Vex prodded him in the chest with a single sharp finger. "Are much too young to be saying that. And as adorable as you are, you are not going to seduce me into flying away with you. I'm much too old for that."

"Think about it? If I get through this. If we can still see each other."

"Tell you what, I'll trade kisses for answers. You tell me exactly what happened. I'll give you all the kisses and more you ask for."

Scopes shook his head. "No. You should not if you don't want to. I will tell you next time you visit. Your master knows you're here?"

Vex nodded. "Of course."

"Go home to him."

And Vex did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scopes is about 17 here. (Same as in the last couple of parts but seemed relevant since his youth is referred to a lot. He is still short, adorably cute (apart from when in his warpaint) and yet to hit his growth spurt.) 
> 
> Since Vex keeps calling himself old, he's actually somewhere in his twenties.
> 
> This has been written and rewritten and I really hope that it makes sense. If I don't post it now it's never going to get posted. And for the amount of time I've spent writing this, it's still so short! Sorry!


	17. Orla talks to people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the bottom, or check the tags. Everything's spoken about, and not in graphic detail, as opposed to happening.

Speaking to Orla about his confinement was extremely anti-climactic. He stepped out of his room, when he heard she was home, and she smiled. 

"I am glad to see you again. Are you feeling better?"

"You ordered me to remain in my room," Scopes reminded her.

Orla was taken aback. "For a few hours. You had not slept." 

If she wanted to pretend she hadn't spent a week punishing him Scopes would let her. As punishments went it was mild. "Are you going to sell me?"

"Do you want me to? Would you prefer a different master?"

As if his preferences had anything to do with anything. He had a brief thought of Ansel, and then remembered what Vex had said. "No." At least he knew what he was getting with Orla.

"Good. Then we are in agreement. I do not wish for another familiar."

Scopes smiled, faintly. "Will I still be training with Master Cat?" His sign for Zaraki. 

"He was concerned that you have missed a few appointments. I told him you were feeling ill. If you wish to then yes I'll continue paying."

"Thank you."

"I have a few matters I need to attend to. I have a visitor arriving later for afternoon tea. She will be bringing her familiar. If you wish to attend, then dress your softest please."

Soft. Gentle. Sweet. Vulnerable. Scopes could do that. No staring. No eye-contact. Fluffy clothes and hair and everything. Smooth away all the sharp edges and be cute. 

Orla in turn dressed primly, in her favourite ice blue clothes. She'd even done her nails. Long, blue, ice. Utterly impractical and unlike any nails Scopes had seen her wear before. Orla liked to be able to use her hands.

The maid collected an exquisite array of tiny cakes and savoury morsels she had undoubtedly brought in. It didn't even seem real the food was so pretty. When finally Orla's visitor was brought up, Scopes was stunned.

"Letasha, I'm so glad you managed to make it," Orla actually smiled. "Please, come in."

Letasha looked every bit as shocked as Scopes felt. She was clearly wearing her best dress, although it wasn't the most fashionable thing, and pink and sunshine yellow weren't her colours it was clean and fit. Her familiar, a ram with curvy horns, and wooly hair that fell into his eyes, likewise, was wearing his best. Awkward and out of place Letasha let herself be lead through to the living room. 

"Your familiar may sit. It is not good for their joints to kneel all the time." Not on the furniture of course, like Scopes himself was seated on a cushion on the floor. The familiar settled down on the ground beside his mistress' feet. 

Letasha's eyes widened with awe as the tea things were brought in.

They made small talk and nibbled on the fancies and sipped their tea and Scopes only paid half attention to as he waited for his mistress to get to the point. 

"I have something very serious I wish to discuss with you," Orla finally said.

"I had wondered," Letasha replied. 

"I know that we are not friends," Orla said. "I would like to change that if at all possible. You are an intelligent woman, driven, and not at all what I expected."

"Thank you," Letasha blushed. "That's very kind of you to say. I am always happy to have more friends. I just thought, I know that I'm common, and you're..."

"We are both Mages," Orla interupted. "Social class does not matter beyond that. And you are a mage at the finest magical academy in the world. Whatever your background you are now one of the elite."

"You truly believe that?"

"I would not say it if I did not. I wished to ask you about Marcel and Augustin."

"Begging your pardon, but, I've heard that you do not like certain talk, and I would not wish to say anything that would upset your sensibilities."

"I'm well aware of sexual acts. I simply have no interest in partaking in them myself. I know it is said that I am frigid and a prude, but as long as others do not push their own sexualities onto me, I do not care. Marcel Dupoint informed me that he broke up with you after he discovered you engaging in sexual intercourse with Augustin."

"No." Letasha shook her head, starting to respond and then stopping several times. "Can I speak candidly?"

"Please," Orla replied. "Nothing between us need go further. And I will try not to judge."

"Marcel's gorgeous, I was extremely flattered when he showed an interest in me. Sex with him, and Augustin, was fun. It was never anything serious. I know everyone says I'm easy, but I like sex, for me it's fun - although I do respect that you don't want to. Those two were so much drama and the sex was not good enough to compensate. Marcel's in love with Augustin, who claims he's only attracted to women, so they'd share girls, then Marcel would get all jealous. Sometimes they'd fuck eachother, but then Augustin would pretend like he didn't remember afterwards. No one cares that he likes both. Marcel was so angry when Augustin did that huge proposal to you, and then you broke Augustin's heart."

"Augustin was not in love with me. I did not break his heart."

Letasha shrugged. "I don't know. He did talk about you a fair bit, he knew you were untouchable but thought maybe if he tried some grand romantic gestures. He was really upset when you said no, and how you said it. Anyone could tell you aren't interested, but he thought you just needed the right guy. Augustin was so broken up afterwards. And Marcel tried to cheer him up, and invited me along. But they were so drunk, and high on honeydust, and goodness knows what else, and I was about done with their drama by then anyway, so I just left them to it. 

"I was never with either of them when the other wasn't there, so if Marcel told you that he caught me and Augustin together, he was lying. It's just like him to stir up trouble like this. Not that it would have mattered since none of us were dating anyway."

Orla nodded. "I believe you."

"I know I've a reputation, but if everyone's consenting and it's fun that's what matters. Can I ask what this is about?" Letasha asked. "Is this about the attack on Marcel?"

"Yes. I'm going to have to make a report at school to the authorities. I'd be really grateful if you'd be willing to come with me. I think you have some valuable information there but I don't want to influence anything you might say."

Letasha frowned. "Of course. If I can help in any way."

"Would you be willing to go now? I can have the rest of our tea boxed up and sent home with you if you want. I'll never eat it all myself. I'd rather get this out of the way with sooner rather than later."

Letasha found herself agreeing. When the two women, and Letasha's familiar rose to leave, Scopes did likewise. But Orla made no attempt to fetch his leash or his collar.

"Mistress, are you not taking me with you?"

"No." Orla said. "You are to remain at the apartment. You may roam the apartment. Do not answer the door. Do not leave not even to go to the garden."

"They will want to speak to me."

"No they will not." Orla stated firmly. "If anyone, other than myself, comes here to speak to you, or ask you questions, you will refuse to answer them. You will refuse to leave with them. You must say 'you need to speak with my mistress'. Am I clear?"

Scopes nodded. "Write it for me." 

Orla did exactly that. 

"May Master Cat visit? I would like to keep up to date on that training." Orla seemed hesitant until Scopes added. "Please."

"I will not be gone that long. But I will speak to Zaraki and have both him, and that cat you are fond of, visit. But not until after I return."

"Thank you. I hope everything goes smoothly at school."

"So do I," Orla replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains more discussion of drink-spiking and there's alluded to, but not discussed in detail rape.


	18. Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Vex and Scopes. (This should be the last chapter in the Orla and Scopes first year at university timeline.) 
> 
> Hoping to jump back to Ansel and Scopes after this for a bit. I miss Ansel so much!

Scopes was never going to manage sexy. He didn't even want to, not really, didn't want to be desireable. He wanted to be fierce and intimidating. He wanted to be all 'don't touch me, leave me alone' to everyone but one solitary cat. 

Scopes could dress up as cute and soft and vulnerable. Flutter his lashes and hope for the best, but that never felt like his true self, it was just a thing he was forced to be ever since they'd taken his voice. Which he was not meant to think about, unless he wanted to get angry all over again.

It had happened. He couldn't change it. Let it go.

Vex entered through the window, and Scopes was certain Mistress knew he did that, since he could hear Zaraki having entered through the main door and conversing with her.

"You're looking better," Vex smiled.

"Not as good as you."

Vex laughed. "Does anyone ever look as good as me?" He sprawled out on Scopes' bed. 

"Got you a gift. Said I'd catch you a mouse."

"Master's going to love that," Vex grinned. "I always told him I was terrible at catching vermin. Worst mouser ever."

Scopes offered over the small plush mouse that he'd made. Tried to make. He'd asked the maid to help. 

Vex reached out to take it, nose twitching. His fur bottle-brushed, ears flattening as he tensed, moving back, pressing hard against the wall, eyes blown up. 

"Catnip?" Vex asked. "Are you trying to drug me?" He tried to end the question with a smile but he was still keeping his distance. 

"No!" Scopes shook his head. "Never. I didn't think that was real. Catnip and cats, I thought it was made up, like foxgloves and foxes. It was a joke. I'm sorry." Scopes grabbed the mouse and flung it out the window. "I'm so sorry."

Vex got up and looked out the window, trying to find the mouse in the garden. "Did you buy it?"

Scopes shook his head. "Made it. I'm sorry."

"Tell you what, I'm going to prove what a good mouser I am when I leave, and hunt it down, and it's coming home with me, where I won't embarass myself with how much I like it. Can't be a dark brooding mystery cat when I'm rolling about high on catnip, you know. But you've got to keep my weakness secret, okay, don't let it get out. It was very sweet, and thoughtful. Nobody's ever made me a gift like that before. Thank you."

"I didn't mean to drug you."

"I know, featherbrain. You wouldn't. Besides I'm already owe you some kisses for answers, amn't I, no need to dope me up on catnip first?"

It was so tempting. Scopes shook his head slightly and handed a sheet of paper over. "I wrote everything down, there." 

Vex didn't open it up, nor did he read it. "Still don't want to talk about it?"

"It's all there."

"I could say that's cheating," Vex's smile didn't touch his eyes. He sank back down onto the bed, and he took longer than Scopes expected to read it, his lips forming the words silently, hesitating on the longer words. Scopes had forgotten he wasn't the best reader. Vex was quiet long after he'd read it.

"You tried other means to extract your mistress from the situation, offered a warning, and only when that warning was ignored you lashed out. And only when pressed did you draw blood. You acted appropriately to defend her using only as much force as you needed to leave. They still could have had you killed for it. You risked your life for her."

Scopes nodded. "Mistress has ensured I won't be punished. She has asked me to be soft and cute. I will have my talons trimmed. Trimmed not declawed."

"I'm sure you'll be absolutely adorable."

Scopes pulled a face, grimacing. He knew it was needed. He still didn't have to like it. No claws. No defence. He was going to be even more powerless. Helpless.

Vex tugged Scopes down onto the bed beside him. "So how many kisses do want?"

All of them. Scopes leaned in for one.

The kiss was firm, but gentle, and as second kisses went Scopes couldn't have asked for a nicer one. It would be so easy to ask for more, to run his hands over those sleek muscles and feel where this would lead. And he knew Vex would let him. But letting him was different from wanting it.

Scopes opened his eyes and met Vex's gaze. "They used to make you do this?"

Vex laughed. "Oh, I'd hardly say that. You know what cats are like. What I'm like."

Scopes was very fortunate in being a familiar and one to a woman who found the whole notion of mages having sex with their familiars absolutely disgusting. She would never touch him that way nor allow any other to do so. But Vex had never been a familiar and while he could fight, he wasn't any of the species typically used for those sorts of roles and he'd shown no sign of any sort of domestic skill at all. If you wanted a fighter then one of the big cats were better, a tiger, a lion, not a surly black cat who was all swagger and flirt but never anything beyond. 

"Yes, I know what you're like." And he did. Scopes' gaze roved up and down Vex's form, he was gorgeous, and liked physical contact but he'd always swerved away from allowing things to become more sexual. "I don't want to use you." Tell me I'm not. Tell me you want me. 

"Oh, Sweetbirdie." Scopes was enveloped in a relieved hug that was warm and friendly and absolutely nothing more. "You'd break my heart, if I had one."

Scopes returned the hug and there was a soft rumbling purr that he hadn't even realised had been missing before. They held each other for a time and Scopes mourned the loss of something that could never be. But he had a rumbling purring friend whose company he enjoyed and that wasn't any sort of compensation but a prize all of its own.

"I see your secrets." Scopes smiled. "Lap-cat. Pampered puss." Scopes formed a heart with his hands before continuing. "You protect your heart with a scowl but that doesn't mean it's not there." He could feel it beating against him. Yes, this would be good enough.

Vex smiled in return. "We're not going to be able to keep charging your mistress now," Vex eventually said. Scopes tensed. "Oh no, nothing bad, just in all fairness it wouldn't be ethical, with us being friends and all. Wouldn't want to charge her for friendship as if you're the only one getting something out of this. But you're going to have to fly it alone with the training."

"I'll miss you insulting me and ordering me about," Scopes replied.

Vex laughed. "Oh don't worry, I can still do that for free."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question. Is Orla not telling Scopes how anything was resolved frustrating in a bad way for the reader? I was hoping it'd be possible to read between the lines and figure out what happened. Orla did, very deliberately, exclude Scopes from the resolution. 
> 
> Any questions? 
> 
> Look I did longer chapters! 
> 
> Incidentally, she's called Orla for the Orly Owl meme. :) 
> 
> Scopes for the transforming Scops Owl. Also the word scope.


	19. Ansel and Scopes Actually Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After that diversion we're back to the Ansel and Scopes stuff. They're a mess. I missed them.

"I don't know where to even begin in getting her back," Ansel admitted. "But you're right, I should try. Only I can't afford to pay whatever Orla was given for her."

Scopes glared at him, which was an improvement. Glares meant there was someone in there, thinking, feeling, that Scopes hadn't been completely broken. Ansel kept wanting to hug him and tell him how happy he was and just try to help him stop being upset.

"Okay, I guess I could ask my father, or my mother to help. They could smooth things out, get her back and the lecture wouldn't be that bad. Orla will get upset, but she shouldn't have done what she did. I don't even understand why she did it. Opal was supposed to be mine. I trained her."

Scopes kept with he glaring. "Which?"

"Which what?"

"You trained her? She was the best trained?" Sharp and angry again.

"Both." Ansel thought about it as Scopes kept glaring. It was nice Scopes was looking at him, paying attention to him. "Only that doesn't make sense, does it? Opal's the familiar that Orla put the least amount of training into, so how is she a representation of Orla's skills? And why would Orla take her away, without warning, like that, unless something happened and I should have thought of that and I hope she's okay and thank you for listening and help me work this out. I really missed you, you know, and I'm so glad you're here. I'll sort this out. Now. Thank you for pushing me and having faith in me that I can do it. Can I hug you?"

Scopes hissed.

"Okay, maybe later. I know we've still get to get used to each other again, it's been a long time. I really missed you. Do you want to come with me, or stay here? You can read anything and there should be snacks and things now at least."

"Why?" Scopes asked. 

"Because I like your company and I thought maybe you'd be fed up being stuck indoors. It can get really boring."

Scopes stood and stepped over to Ansel.

Ansel fussed over Scope's collar. It was a soft, decorative ribbon, that would certainly offer absolutely no control.

"I hate this." Ansel admitted. "You don't need this. They're a danger, I don't want you to choke. I've been researching collars and we need to have a conversation about what you would wear. This is what I got for Opal, she thought it was really pretty and it can't choke you. If I pull the leash breaks. First step we go to visit my Father. I know we were just there. But he knows everyone and he'll know who the Duchess of Elton is. Only he's probably going to be really busy and I don't want to bother him unless I have to. Orla's not going to tell me, even if I can find her."

Scopes walked towards the study, leading Ansel after him. 

"Oh good idea! There might be some books that can help."

It was a set of well-loved children's books at the bottom of the shelves Scopes lead him to though, and he gestured with a taloned foot. 

"Those aren't real books. Those are story books, remember, what happens inside stories didn't actually happen, apart from when it..." Scopes was glaring so Ansel stooped down and plucked up the books.

"Oh I remember these, I used to love them when I was a kid. The wolf investigator who pretended to be... She's not real. Lydia Thon, the Duchess of Elton. But she has to be real. I need to speak to Orla. But I don't know where she is and I'm not the great wolf investigator, I'll never hunt down a fake Duchess. But you know Orla, don't you? And she must have spoken to you before she sent you here?"

Scopes shook his head slightly.

"She didn't even say goodbye? Or tell you what was going on? That's mean. I'm so sorry. You served her for all those years and she... I promise I will never, ever, ever do that to you. It's just not fair. Do you know where she is?"

Scopes nodded. 

"Will you take me there?"

"Tomorrow."

"Okay. You're right, it's been a really busy day. What do you want to do?"

Scopes just walked away to find a window to stare out.


	20. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's short, just wanted something soft and fluffy.

Ansel awoke to nightmares, not his own but Scopes'. Thrashing, silent-screaming, dreams of horror. Ansel clambered out of bed and went to check on the owl. 

"Scopes," Ansel called softly but to no response. "Sshh it'll be ok, just a nightmare." He picked up one of the heavier blankets, draped it over the owl, as much as protection from the claws, as in hope that the comforting weight would help him wake up. "Scopes," he said again, still quiet.

Large amber eyes, pupils blown wide, stared at him, body tense. 

"Tea. Cake. Midnight picnic. Come on. Take the blankets."

He lead Scopes, draped in blankets through to the kitchen, and prepared the tea, choosing a blend of herbs he knew had calming properties, reading out the names as he filled the teapot. "Lavender. Chammomile. Honey. It's like drinking a flower garden." Once the water was hot enough for tea, he steeped the flowers in it, then pressed the warm tea into Scopes hands and took another cup himself. 

They nibbled on small pieces of cake, washing it down with herbal tea, and then Ansel lead the sleepy owl back to bed. 

In the dark, early hours of the day with the whole world asleep it felt as if the years had been stripped away and they were so young again. Sleepy Scopes without words or defences as he'd been when they'd first met. They ended up sharing Ansel's bed, as they had when they were almost-children, just the comfort of another person's presence. 

Ansel was woken again, by a prodding talon and a sleepily signed "you snore," before they drifted off again. In the morning Ansel awoke alone, a lingering warmth still on the bed beside him. Scopes had retreated to his own space in the window.


	21. Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated a super-short chapter earlier today so if you didn't see the fluff click back and read it. Think I'm doing this comfort and hurt in the wrong order. :)

Orla was temporarily staying on their mother's estate. Ansel was tempted to just speak to their mother and ask her to deal with things. But he was an adult and he could resolve his own problems and Orla would never let him live it down if he forgot that fact. 

A young rooster answered the door.

"Hahn!" Ansel greeted happily. "Did you get a promotion? That uniform looks great on you. Is my mother about?"

Hahn preened at the praise while Scopes glowered at him. "Mother Valeska is currently away on business. May I take a message, young master?"

"I'm twentyfour," Ansel said. "I know that's older than you, Hahn, and you know my name so none of this 'Young Master'. Well unless you really want to. Then I'll need to find a name for you in turn. Is my sister about?"

"Which sister would that be, young ma...nsel?"

Ansel laughed at the new name. "Orla? Actually any of them? But Orla mostly."

"Magister Orla is currently in residence in the sky wing. Lady Katinka is accompanying Lady Mother on her business and is not expected to return until tomorrow."

"Thanks Hahn, you're doing brilliantly. No need to announce my presence. I'll just go and surprise Orla."

"Would the Young Mansel like any refreshments sent?"

"Oh no, I'm quite all right. But thanks. Scopes, Hahn, Hahn, Scopes, you've met?"

"Indeed Young Master," Hahn said. "He is Magister Orla's first familiar."

Scopes ignored the rooster. 

"He's not anymore. I should get going, it was lovely speaking to you. You're doing brilliant at your job."

Ansel went in search of his sister, Scopes following for a moment, before signing. "I am going to get my things."

"Your things?"

Scopes nodded. "My clothes, my books and everything else. I was not given the chance to pack my things yesterday."

Familiars weren't meant to have possessions. Technically all of that belonged to Orla. Orla had said it was important for Ansel to provide new clothing, but Scopes was finally talking to him, and if Scopes wanted to get his clothes, Ansel wasn't going to say no.

"Okay. I'll speak to Orla, keep her busy, while you do. And if anyone asks I told you to. But, first, what room's she in?"

Scopes looked around the hallway and pointed to the study door. Ansel mouthed a thanks and headed that way. Ansel threw open the door to Orla's study and declared, dramatically. "You lied to me."

Orla turned around on her chair, away from the desk she was writing on, utterly bemused. "Why would you say that, Ansel?" Orla's voice was filled with ice. 

"There's no such person as the Duchess of Elton. She doesn't exist. Even if she did then why would she want the familiar I trained and not any of those that were yours."

"Ugh, I knew you'd cause a scene. Just drop it, Ansel. You signed the papers. You have a new familiar now." 

"I want Opal back."

"Well you can't, she's gone." 

"Dead? You had her killed?" Ansel's lip quivered.

"Don't be so emotional, of course she isn't dead. She just doesn't want to see you. You're so codependent it scared her. Familiars need structure. They need someone with authority to give them boundaries and direction. It confuses them when you keep asking them questions and to make decisions that you should. She asked to be given to a new master so I made arrangements. But I knew it'd hurt your feelings so I lied."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care. She's in a much better place."

"That's what people say when someone's dead."

"She is not dead. Why do you have to be like this? Why can't you be normal? You already have a new familiar. He's got far better breeding than Opal. Be happy."

"You can't compare people like that. It's not about better. They're different."

"They're not people, they're tools. Get over yourself. You're never getting her back."

Scopes returned to the room with all his clothes and his belongings packed up. 

"Get a glass of water." Scopes ordered Ansel to Orla's further bemusement. "And take my belongings to the door."

"Those are my belongings," Orla said. 

Scopes stared at her, shook his head, and ordered Ansel. "Go."

"I'll pay for them," Ansel said. 

"Father will pay for them you mean."

"That's only fair, he bought you a familiar and not me."

Orla sighed. "Do you even know why he bought me a familiar? He didn't buy you one because he spent that money securing your position at the university. Do you really think you'd have been admitted if he hadn't put up a substantial incentive?"

"Go." Scopes signed at Ansel again. Ansel finally did so, grabbing the bags to do as he'd been told.

"What happened to Opal." Scopes asked, the moment Ansel was gone.

"Why do you care?"

"What happened to Opal?" Scopes repeated.

"If he gets Opal back then he will replace you. He won't need you anymore. He will realise how defective you are and sell you. Is that what you want?"

"Yes. You owe me."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Scopes scowled. "You promised never to sell me."

"I didn't."

"You got rid of me and never even told me. You never even said goodbye."

"So?"

"I will tell him everything."

Orla sighed. "Father noticed her. That's all."

Scopes glared.

"Ansel's too stupid to know what that means. She was scared. If he was any sort of master she'd have felt safe going to him, but she didn't. She came to me."

"You could have told Ansel."

"If he knew Father wanted her, he'd hand her over on a silver platter with a ribbon around her neck. He would never, ever, defy our Father."

"So you traded me for her?"

"Yes. You've never been happy with me."

"That's not true."

"Well you've certainly not been happy in recent years. You liked university. You'll have a chance to do it again."

"It could kill me."

"Then make sure it doesn't." 

"Give him the choice."

"He'll try and keep both of you. Do you want that, again?"

"Yes."

"I'll go get her then. You wait with your stolen goods. I will not have you involved in this discussion." 

-

When Ansel returned to Orla's study, Opal was there. He ran to her, to give her a hug, and then hesitated as she flinched back. 

"Opal, I was so worried, I thought you were dead, or worse. What're you doing here? How are you?"

"I'm sorry Master," Opal said. "I got scared. I flew away."

"Of what? I promised to protect you."

"Everything," Opal said. 

"And you went to Orla, not me?"

Opal nodded. "She was there. She said she'd speak to you. I didn't mean to disappoint you. I'm so sorry, Master."

"You never disappointed me," Ansel tried to reassure. "Would you come back with me? I'll do better at protecting you. If there's anything I was doing wrong I wish you'd have told me."

"Mistress Orla said you have a new familiar."

"I can have two, or more. Some people do. And that'd be better too, since then you'd have another friend and if..."

Opal started to shake. "I can't with him Master, I can't. He's violent and mean and he broke Pearl's wings. He terrorised her. I can't..."

"Scopes?" Ansel knew that couldn't be true.

"Yes. He's a monster."

"He's not. Are you sure she was telling the truth? Do you like Pearl?"

"She wasn't lying. She was scared. She's been so nice to me, all of the flock have. It's been nice to be part of a group. And the Mistress is going to teach me things." It had barely been a day. "But I know you really need me too. It's just, he's so scary. I can't live with him."

"Thank you for being honest with me, Opal."

"Are you sure you'll be safe?"

"Of course." Ansel smiled brightly. "Scopes would never hurt me. I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding."

"He attacked a mage, gouged his eye out, just for talking to the Mistress. He broke Pearl's wing for talking to a friend. He'd hit her and hurt her whenever the Mistress wasn't around. He's crazy. But Mistress is so kind and she wanted to fix him but even she couldn't. She tried everything and she couldn't. She hired other trainers and he attacked them."

"Did Orla tell you this?"

"No. But everyone knows."

"Pearl told you?"

"Yes. And the other doves. And she says the other familiars at school knew all about him and how bad he is. He'd have fights with them all the time until they put him in the crates so he couldn't hurt anyone. He's vicious and a bully."

"Thank you, Opal. I'm going to miss you so much. We can still be friends? I don't want you to be scared and if you're happier where you are that's what matters."

Ansel left, feeling terrible. "We're going home."

"Just us?" Scopes signed. "What about Opal?"

Ansel bit back a sob and shook his head. "She's alive. She's staying." 

Scopes leaned against him on the carriage ride back, half-dozing. Ansel knew he'd made the right decision. He couldn't just abandon Scopes. It hurt so much how Opal didn't want him. And everything Orla had said just drove the knife in deeper.


	22. Treasure Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurt hurt hurtssss.

"Which room do you want to put your things in?" Ansel asked Scopes when they returned. "Do you want the same room you had with Orla?"

Scopes scowled at the question. 

"If you want the master bedroom instead of one of the guestrooms that's okay too, or if you want to share. Opal was..."

"Shut up." Scopes signed. 

"Sorry." Silence loomed and Ansel felt the need to explain. "It's just, I'm going to have to clear out her room and..."

"Burn it."

Ansel laughed, shocked. "But then everything else would burn."

"Good."

"Are you okay?" Ansel asked, concerned. 

"Why didn't you take her back?" 

"Oh. She didn't want to come. She wanted to leave me and Orla lied to protect her. I never even realised how unhappy she was."

"Doesn't matter. You should have taken her back."

"It does matter. If she's happier with Orla then that's important." Scopes continued to glare, angrily, and Ansel couldn't work out why. "I'm glad you're here."

"No you're not. You'd rather have her."

"That's not true."

"You speak about her all the time."

"She's my friend, and I was expecting to enter this new phase of my life with her, and it's an adjustment. I'll try and stop. I am so glad that you're here."

"Why?"

"Because you were the dream," Ansel admits. "Perfect. I always liked you. If I could have picked anyone I'd have picked you."

"You didn't like me," Scopes accused. "You just saw something cute and quiet that would follow you around like a pet and couldn't interupt."

Ansel didn't immediately disagree. Instead he thought about it, remembered back. "I saw a scared boy, who'd been locked in a cupboard, and was terrified. Who despite that trauma was willing to trust me, and follow me, and didn't let it stifle his insatiable interest in everything. You'd such a curiosity, and I wanted to share the world with you, and discover things together and never, ever hear you cry again. You said a lot with your eyes and your expressions and your body language and I didn't always understand but I tried. And you lit up so much whenever you experienced something new and wonderful. And you made me laugh, so much. I just wanted to be around you all the time because you're amazing."

Scopes kept scowling, not softening at all. "Then why didn't you keep me?"

"I tried. I did everything I could think of. I begged father, and he said to ask Orla and she said no, and kept saying no. I asked mother and she wouldn't interfere. Orla wouldn't even let me see you. She said I had done lasting harm to you, and that you hated me and never wanted to see me again. But I never forgot about you."

"Liar."

"No. Wait. I can prove it." Ansel walked through to his bedroom, which was mostly unpacked, and wriggled under the bed, dragging a wooden box out from underneath it. He picked the box up and dropped it down onto the bed. "This is my treasure chest. Take a seat, please."

Scopes did so, still frowning, as Ansel settled down onto the bed. Ansel did something magic to the box, causing the lid to spring open. It was filled with an assortment of items and knicknacks and papers and nothing that could be called treasure by any definition of the word.

"This is the picture you drew of us, remember? And the one I drew." Ansel allowed himself to smile at the memories as he pulled the pictures from the box. Scopes was talented, his drawing a lovely sketch, whereas Ansel had drawn like a child. "Remember that morning we crept out of bed at dawn and went out into the garden and the grass was wet and glittery and the sky was super pretty, and you picked a daisy for me? Well this... I tried to keep it only it went all brown and crumbly and I cried so much, and Orla would say I was a baby, but it hurt losing that flower, but not as bad as losing you did. And then I learned how to preserve flowers so it wouldn't happen again, losing a flower, I mean, I'd never preserve you like that. And then got another daisy which isn't your one but a tribute to it. It wasn't as fun without you there." Scopes just watched him, not reacting until Ansel handed him the crystalline daisy. "Careful, it's sharp."

Scopes dropped it. It didn't shatter on the floor at least. Ansel stooped to pick it up and return it to the box.

"This is the recipe for your favourite cake that I borrowed from the old cook and forgot to give it back. I always wanted to have it and I tried to make the cake once but baking is difficult and the cook got really, really angry and chased me out of the kitchen. I guess your tastes might have changed though. It didn't taste as good without you around to eat it with anyway." 

"I tried to preserve the mouse you left on my pillow, which was very kind and thoughtful of you, but I sort of accidentally blew it up. Which is why not to use the flower spell on things that aren't plants. It made such a mess. These are some of the feathers you left on my pillow, not on purpose, and I know it's creepy but... I really missed you."

Scopes moved over to touch the items in the box. Not everything was from him, Ansel had other memories inside, other things he treasured, each which undoubtedly also had a story behind it.

"You were so intelligent, and quickminded, and funny, and curious, and interesting. I loved seeing the world through your eyes and just being with you. And you were never quiet. You couldn't talk with words but you talked every single other way. You were perfect." Ansel said.

Scopes tore the first picture in half, and then half again, staring at Ansel as he did so. Ansel's lip quivered and he tried not to sob and he left the box open. Once the first was little more than confetti Scopes picked up the second and Ansel didn't stop him except to beg. "Please... Scopes, please. Please. I don't understand. You can... "

"Why aren't you angry?" Scopes asked, ripping the page in two. 

"They're just memories, they're yours as much as mine so... if you don't want me to have the... just..." Ansel choked on the sobs. 

"Stop me. Punish me or I'll destroy everything." 

"No. I know I deserve to be hurt. I failed you so badly. I'd rather you hurt me."

"Yes." Scopes signed, eagerly. "You have the training tools?"

"The... Oh. No. Um. Maybe, somewhere. They're compulsory. I was never, ever, ever going to use them. They're with the rest of the school supplies in the study."

"Stay here." Scopes snatched up the box of treasures and took it with him, leaving the remnants of the two pictures with Ansel, one tiny shreds, the other torn in half. Years Ansel had treasured those pictures for and all they represented, the culmination of that perfect Summer. 

Scopes returned carrying a training whip... it had a name and Ansel couldn't remember, he hadn't liked that section of the familiar guide. It was cruel and hateful and he'd never, ever, ever planned to use it. 

Ansel could smell burning wafting through the door. "Did you set fire to it?" Ansel sobbed.

Scopes glared at him. "Kneel."

Ansel did that, falling off the bed and into a kneel on the floor, trying not to shake himself to pieces, his knees hurt and so did his heart and he wasn't scared of Scopes, not really.

Ansel knew he could stand up, he could snatch the whip from Scopes, he could put out the fire... his box of treasures, all the tiny little bits and pieces he'd valued and collected over the years, hidden away and kept safe.

"You are pathetic." Scopes signed.

"I know."

"Make me stop."

"No."

"I will hurt you."

"Okay." 

Scopes' frustration increased as each response was not what he wanted. He lashed out with a loud crack of the whip. Ansel flinched but there was no pain, just noise. Scopes missed? He missed? No. Scopes whipped the floor again, clearly deliberate and again, and again, in a fit of fury, then threw the whip across the room, not even at Ansel. 

Ansel gazed up at Scopes, with broken-hearted sadness.

"How do they do it?" Scopes asked, sharp, angry. 

"Who? Do what?" Ansel asked. 

"Punishment. Whippings. Beatings. Hurt. Pain. How do they do it?"

"I don't know." Ansel admitted. 

"Why do they take a whip to a person and whip them so bad they die, by accident, and then do it again, and again and again."

"They don't think of you as people," Ansel replied. "It's easier to hurt not-people. I think. I don't understand it either. I don't ever want to hurt anyone."

"I want to hurt you." Scopes admitted.

"Ok. You can."

"You're weak."

"I know."

"You're not meant to want it."

"I don't. I don't like being hurt. I don't want you to hurt me. But, I'd rather you hurt me than hurt yourself. Is it just me you want to hurt, or everyone?" 

Scopes' shoulders slumped, defeated, the fight fading into emotional exhaustion. He nodded once, sinking down to the floor, back against the wall. "I will keep hurting you," his words filled with despair.

"If I hurt you, tell me? I won't mean to do it on purpose, but if it happens, tell me? I'm stupid about some things, but I'd never mean to."

Scopes bowed his head, hiding his face, not answering. 

Ansel let time pass in silence not sure what to say to that. "I'm going to touch you, okay? Feel free to hurt me. I deserve it. I just... I need a hug and you need a hug and can't we just do that instead of fighting, please? You used to like hugging, before, and I know you don't anymore, and things happened and I don't know how to take the pain away, but I do know how to hug."

Scopes didn't respond, but he also didn't hiss, and so Ansel shuffled closer, careful as one would approach a wary animal. He kept his movements slow, nothing sudden. When he reached out, he made sure to give the familiar plenty of time to pull away, but Scopes didn't. Ansel touched feathers, stroked them gently, just planning to sit side-by side. But all that wary tension and anger died and Scopes collapsed into his arms.

Ansel held him ever so gently, terrified that Scopes would break. He was careful not to hug too tight, not to make Scopes feel trapped in any way or form, and the two of them sobbed themselves into exhaustion.


	23. Peril

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today so if you didn't read the last go check it out. 
> 
> Another flashback stream of consciousness rambling.

Scopes Flashback:

The years at Majik's Academia flew by. Orla excelled and Scopes thrived. 

He had books and classes and so much to learn, and he joined Orla in as many classes as he could. He worked hard to make himself invaluable. He learned all of the coursework he could, even if he couldn't perform the magical side, he was the perfect assistant. He'd copy his Mistress' reports for her, making her barely legible scrawl into his own clear writing. He knew what items to hand her before she even asked. 

He remained still, through the discomfort, as his Mistress learned to channel magic through him, never fighting, never doing anything but accepting that this was how it was meant to be.

This was how he was destined to die, Scopes knew. Destroyed by magic he couldn't even use flooding through his body. Orla had said that any who burned their familiars out in that way were extremely wasteful.

He was a commodity. A tool. He tried to be so much more.

Familiars disappeared from the care centre and were replaced by others with only gossip and rumour to explain their fate. Two died on different occasions in class. Not all of them came back from the forest test. Punishments issued to familiars could be cruel and brutal. 

Orla and Scopes aced all of the tests they were given. They were a team, a partnership, or so Scopes liked to think. Orla herself made a few more friends, and a lot more connections. She started to leave Scopes alone more frequently. 

Not that he minded. He was happy. Life was good.

And then one day, Mistress returned home with Peril. 

The bird Orla was leading on an exquisite silver leash was perfect. She was small and delicate and oh so pretty white dove.

"Scopes this is Peril."

Scopes did not hiss at her. He did not fluff himself up. He did glare. He was a bird in control of his own emotions. He was being replaced. He couldn't even work out where he'd gone wrong. He'd been stupid. He should have noticed.

"Why?" Scopes asked. 

But Orla didn't explain herself and left him with Peril, who laughed and she giggled and she touched Scopes and she didn't care about anything he had to say. 

Peril took over his room, his bed, his life, and he hated her. But he coped. He tolerated it. Even though she'd just giggle whenever he signed and never understood a thing he said. 

She could talk and she talked all the time, empty fluffy things that grated on his nerves and she never left Mistress alone, and when Mistress was out she chittered constantly at Scopes. 

She was stupid, empty-headed, feather-brained. She couldn't read. She spent most of her time preening and chattering. 

After all Scopes had worked for, he was replaced oh so easily. 

Orla took both of them to school with her, left both of them in the familiar care centre. Peril befriended all of the others and he had to listen to them talking, chittering away at pointless, empty, useless things.

They loved her there. They loved her everywhere.

It didn't matter how much Scopes knew, how hard he worked, how well he wrote, or anything he did. It was all pointless. 

Mages who'd never even noticed Scopes gushed over how perfect Peril was. She charmed and delighted them. She was stupid and empty headed and no one cared. 

And she had wings. Not just useless feathers down her arms, and fluff on her back, but proper wings large enough to glide on that emerged from her back.

Even her diet was more varied and interesting than his. Which Orla explained away as doves having different needs from owls. She'd cry when Scopes stole her food, but even she didn't want to eat his.

Scopes dealt with it. He behaved. He had ways of venting his frustrations. He had a friend that was his and not Peril's, his own space away from her, when she was never mentioned and he could pretend that she didn't exist. 

Until the day he returned to the apartment, after a small chore he'd been set, and he heard laughter. A familiar seductive purr of a voice, and oh so happy chirps. 

Peril was wearing something tiny, and transparent, the sort of wispy thing she loved flouncing about in, and she was perched atop the cat and... Scopes grabbed her, by the wing, and she screamed. He wanted to rip the wings from her. He wanted to shred her. He wanted to... wanted to scream and yell and tear into her and his talons were useless and they'd stolen his voice and there was absolutely nothing he could do. 

There was nowhere to fly to. His room wasn't his room anymore. Nothing was his. Not even his friend. 

It was Zaraki that grabbed him, and Scopes tried to lash out, kicking and biting, and Orla was speaking, and Peril was screaming, and Scopes was wrestled into submission, thrown into a cupboard and told he was to remain there until he calmed down. 

A time out. Nothing more. Just darkness and a quiet place to be. He was an owl. He liked darkness. He didn't calm down. 

The next day Orla spoke at him, and Zaraki spoke at him and he didn't listen to what they were saying. It didn't matter. There was no point. 

Nothing he ever did was right anymore. All his punishments ran together until they bled into meaningless nothing and it felt like he spent more time in time out than he did timed in. 

He hated her. He hated her so much. He hated everything. 

Orla had finally insisted she could not deal with this sort of distraction in her final year. And so she'd sent Scopes away, to live with her mother and the chickens. 

Scopes was not meant to interact with the chickens. He was angry and dangerous and an extremely bad influence. Which meant Scopes was left on his own most of the time. Apart from when they sought him out. It was pointless making friends with them though. Pointless speaking to them. Everything was pointless. 

He was bored out of his mind most of the time with nothing to do. No purpose. Nothing. He watched the other birds with so much envy. They'd family. Friends. Jobs. They were happy. 

When Orla returned, having graduated, it was not just with Peril, but also another dove. And another after that.

They were everything he had not been and he didn't belong anywhere.


	24. Barn Cats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So turns out I wanted to write another flashback, so I did. 
> 
> Then back to Ansel and Scopes!

\- Scopes Flashback - (During Scopes' time at the farm.) 

Scopes had been at the farm for over month. At least. Time blended all into one there. He was just beginning to adjust to the change of pace, the sheer monotony of living out in the middle of nowhere, when out on a walk he came across a familiar figure. 

"Hey birdie."

"Vex?" 

"Who else?" 

The cat's tail and ears were hidden, but even the lowness of his hood couldn't conceal those striking eyes and whiskers. He looked tired. He looked as if he'd walked all the way from the city, stopping only to sleep in a ditch.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just checking you're okay." 

"Why?"

"Promised I would once, didn't I?" He was wary, although there were no ears, no tail providing cues.

"Where's your Master?"

Vex shrugged, nonchalantly. "Not here."

"He sent you?" 

Vex laughed, which was not an answer. But if Zaraki had sent him, he wouldn't have walked.

"I hate you."

Vex was startled. "Why?"

Scopes sighed. "Hate everything. It didn't work. I never was invaluable. Nothing I did ever mattered."

"Not true," Vex replied. "Maybe not to her. Maybe not to any of them. You mattered to the most important person though."

"Who? You?"

Vex laughed again, this time more genuine. "If you want. I was going to say you. Everything you did mattered to you."

"If you're not meant to be here, you'd better come back with me. Quietly. I'm a barn owl now."

"As long as there's no barn cats."

"Just you. Be quiet. Don't be seen. I'll speak with you there, shortly."

It was a lot easier to steal food when the kitchen was run by chickens who didn't see the point in special diets. Rietta in particular kept trying to fatten Scopes up. She didn't question him when he helped himself to freshly baked oat cookies, and if she didn't see him take some ham and cheese and bread and a flask of apple juice, and some apples, then so much the better. Scopes bundled it all up in a blanket and slipped out to the barn.

"You lied to me, feathers," Vex purred as Scopes returned. 

Arms full, and not in sight, Scopes couldn't talk until he clambered into the loft and, Vex, sprawled out, sexy as ever, ears and tail free once more, with a barn cat in his lap, and a second purring at his side. 

Scopes swung his bundle down and began unwrapping it, nudging away a curious cat's face. "They don't like people."

"Good thing I'm not people then."

"You didn't bring food with you?" Scopes asked.

"Thought I'd catch myself a birdie, but that's trickier than it sounds."

"Pampered puss."

"You know it. So spoiled I have no instincts left. Not like these guys." Vex petted a purring head and Scopes couldn't help but smile. Once he'd removed everything from the blanket he dropped said blanket on Vex's head. The cat rearranged it so he was more comfortable. They ate in silence, Vex quickly and efficiently, tearing off bits of meat and cheese to share with the cats. 

Scopes nibbled on a cookie and watched for the most part. "They love you."

"They love the food. And that I'm warm and comfortable."

Scopes shook his head. "They don't like people." He repeated. "How are your feet?"

"Stop asking about me, I came to see you. Make sure you're okay. That you were where they said."

"You walked all the way here for that?"

Vex shrugged. 

"Will you be going back home after?"

"Yeah. Probably. Zar's going to kill me for this."

"Probably not. He loves you."

"Oh sweet-thing, don't you remember what I told you about that?"

"Eat a cookie."

"No that doesn't sound like something I'd say at all. Now eat a fish, maybe. Missed you, Feathers."

"And you, Whiskers."

Scopes didn't want to ruin things. Didn't want to ask about Peril. It didn't matter. He wasn't angry anymore.

"So are you happy here, at least?" Vex asked.

"Am I happy anywhere? It's nice. Temporary. All the chickens are nice. The masters are nice. No one cares if I steal proper food as long as I don't feed my rations to the barncats."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"They'll get fat and lazy and stop catching rats and then I'd have to do it. You really walked all this way to see how I was?" 

"I didn't walk the entire way. I hitched a ride some of the way."

"You could have written a letter."

"You know me and writing. I'm not the best. Besides I'd planned a deflowering and can't do that by letter."

Scopes laughed at the ridiculousness of it. 

"You've never before?" Vex asked.

"No, I've never planned a deflowering before or attempted to by letter." Scopes smiled, considering all that was being offered. "Such a sweet kitten to offer." Vex's lips curled with an amused snarl. "Tempting. If I could love I'd love you, I think."

"Same." Vex replied. 

"I'm very flattered that you came all this way to deflower me. It could give a bird ideas. It's like some grand romantic tale. What next, we run off to be miserable together? It's got to be no. You don't like sex much, do you?"

"It's complicated."

Scopes waited. 

Vex considered, then shook his head. "Just pet stuff. I'm sure you can imagine. You're a bright bird."

Scopes nodded. "You didn't want Peril, did you?"

"Peril?" Vex asked. "Oh. That dove? No. Not in the slightest. Never had anyone wade in to save me before, certainly not that dramatically. Now that was something out of a romance."

Scopes blinked long and slow. "I didn't. I was just mad at her. Jealous. Possessive. Bad bird. Worse familiar."

"The training we did didn't help at all, did it?"

Scopes considered. "Some bits did. Mistress said I'm too clever. That they shouldn't breed familiars as intelligent as I am. That it serves no purpose and just leads to behavioural issues. That's what she's ended up writing on. She's decided I'm untrainable."

"They're very good at telling us what they think, aren't they? Not so good at listening. Even the best of them. She's still keeping you though?"

"I'm not sure why. Probably to finish her paper. To use as an example. Maybe she's hoping I'll run away."

"Will you?"

Scopes shook his head. "You were right. It's a bad idea." 

"Hey come over here." 

Scopes did, leaning against Vex. He'd missed that. "Mistress Katinka's heading to the city tomorrow morning. You should hitch a ride with her. Save you the walk." 

Vex just nodded. 

"Take off your boots and I'll see what a mess your feet are in." 

Vex's eyes went to the salve and bandages that Scopes had brought. He arched a brow in question, but Scopes shook his head, slightly. "You've done this before?" Vex asked.

Scopes laughed. "Yes, with all the sexy cats that come by."

"I'm your favourite though."

"Of course."


	25. Broken Things

Ansel held Scopes for as long as he could. He was loathe to move away, even when his butt got numb against the floor and his legs started to fall asleep. Eventually his stomach grumbled its disagreement. "I'm going to get us something to eat. You want to come or need some time?"

Scopes remained on the floor and shook his head. 

"I'll be back shortly then."

Ansel's treasure box was thankfully not burned. There was a sheet of paper that had been burned, and Ansel hoped the ash wasn't from his box but if it was then it was and he could worry about that later. The contents were undamaged, save for those two pictures Scopes had torn up. 

It wasn't unsalvageable. Food first. There was still cake. He liked cake but he knew from experience he had to eat things that weren't just cake. Variety was the spice of life and all that. He was too tired to want to go out again and he could make do with... oh there were some of the meat-bars. That was food. If it was good enough for Scopes it was good enough for him. On one plate Ansel put cake. On the other he put two meat-stick-bars. It didn't smell that great but maybe it was tastier than it smelled. 

He then made some tea for them both and carried the food through to his bedroom where Scopes was. You weren't meant to eat in bedrooms, that's how you got giant ants, but they could make an exception maybe. 

Scopes was sitting on the floor having tried to gather up all the tiny shreds of paper, which he was painstakingly trying to piece back together. Ansel's heart soared with fondness. He wanted to hug Scopes and... a draught from the door blew the pile of scraps into the air, scattering them. Scopes gritted his teeth in anger.

"Hey, it's okay. I brought food, ish, only I'm going to have to go out and buy some more again." Scopes looked at the two plates, back and forth, and helped himself to some of the tea. 

"There's a maid."

"There is?"

Scopes nodded. "She comes with the apartment. Lives in the basement. Serves the entire building. Works for your Grandmother."

"I didn't know. I could ask her to cook something? We could have proper food."

Scopes nodded and began gathering up the scraps of paper again.

"I could fix that with magic. If you don't mind. Fixing things is easy with magic." 

"How?" Scopes asked. 

"I'm really clumsy, you know. I'm always breaking things and having accidents. So I'd to work out some spells for fixing things. Only sometimes that made things worse. If I'm not careful it goes wrong and things blow up catch fire.

"It turns out there's so many different ways to use magic to fix broken objects," Ansel explained. "If it's all in one piece you can just remind it what it used to be like. Or feel the shape of how it's meant to be and return it to that. That only works on things that aren't living, healing magic's different. The spell I'm going to use is two parts. The first with just one piece of the drawing, I can call all the other bits to it, because they used to be together, they remember that. The difficulty with the summoning spell isn't actually the spell itself, that's easy. But you need safeguards in place. The pieces can't come too fast. They shouldn't keep coming if the path is blocked. If they're inside something or someone they shouldn't make their way out. Also I just want the drawing, not the tree the paper was made out of, or the rocks the pigment came from, or even the other sheets of paper. 

"That's what I'll be using the symbols for, to add limits and keep control of the spell. It's important to do this with everything, even something like paper which shouldn't have any disastrous consequences if it does break the rules. There's no shortcuts to magic."

Scopes stared in disbelief.

"What?"

"You explained."

"Oh, um, did I go on too much? I know I do sometimes but..."

Scopes shook his head and smiled, softly, sweetly, a ghost of the boy he'd once been. His hands fluttered to try and form words a few times and then he shook his head. He reached out to touch Ansel, very lightly on the hand, then the shoulder. "We could draw a new one."

Ansel thought of letting go of the past, of that picture he cherished. He didn't understand why Scopes didn't want him to fix the old one... or maybe he did since... no he should ask. 

"We could do both?" Ansel offered.

"Greedy," Scopes replied fondly. "Will the magic be draining?"

"Oh, no, definitely not. It's a super easy spell and I've done it so many times. Summon all the broken bits. Then zap them together. You don't want to use much magic at all for it, because that's when things explode. It's just a teeny tiny bit. Everything wants to join back together anyway. But thank you for worrying about me.You're so kind. It's really no problem at all. You can watch. It's just all the safeguards that takes time. I'll even use a wand and you'll see. You can use a quill as a wand and to draw the symbols. Not your quills of course, I'd never do that. I wonder if it matters if it's from a live bird or a dead one I was going to do these experiments with quills and..."

Scopes kissed Ansel's cheek, just a featherlight brush of lips on skin, so soft that Ansel could think he dreamed it. Only then Scopes was blushing, and up on his feet, and flustered. "Food. I'm getting food."

"But I already..." Ansel called out, but Scopes was darting off. That was okay. Ansel could cast the spell on his own. He knew he bored everyone with his talk of magic. He hoped going to school surrounded by people who loved it as much as he did would make things easier. Then he could talk to everyone about ideas. His stomach grumbled and he absently picked up one of the meatsticks to gnaw on. It tasted terrible but he didn't care. Much.


	26. Miscommunication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again Ansel and Scopes fail to communicate.

"I want to have sex," Scopes said, completely out of the blue. Ansel had been reading up on the courses he was going to be taking and Scopes had been... well whatever he'd been doing he was now speaking to Ansel about... about... things that were perfectly natural and were a reasonable request to ensure his familiar's well-being. 

"Oh. Of course," Ansel said but rather than then initiating said sex, he scrambled up to go grab his familiar guide book. Once he had the book he started flipping through. "Um... I never read that section but I should have. I didn't mean to neglect your needs." It had only been three days, should he have seen to this sooner? He'd not even thought about it. What did you even do? "So um, what did Orla do?"

Scopes glared. Ansel didn't understand why and Scopes didn't explain, so Ansel looked through the book, quickly skimming. His frown deepened as he did so. "This is a nasty awful horrid book." He slammed it shut. "And not helpful at all." He picked up a second book, to Scopes' increasing irritation. "Ah here's the section." He started flipping pages. "This is still bad. Mother says the drive for sex, itself, is perfectly natural. That companions and familiars should first be provided with safe outlets for those desires. Then only if it becomes detrimental behaviour should alternatives be looked into. This book's suggesting convenience first. There are potions to help stifle unwanted urges, and other more permanant solutions, but there's side-effects, and that's awful."

Scopes started to pace, and glare, and glare, and pace. 

Ansel read on. "Do you want me to buy you a companion? Only that doesn't seem right, buying another person. I could hire someone, only they don't really have a choice either."

Scopes shook his head and glared.

"Did Orla try and buy you a companion? She said she tried to breed you, but you refused."

"No. Why would she? She said they shouldn't breed familiars as intelligent as I am. While some intelligence might be desirable, too much is detrimental to their wellbeing." 

"That's horrible. You're not too clever to be loved. That was a terrible thing for her to say. I'm sorry she wouldn't find you a partner. She's not interested in that sort of thing and forgets other people are sometimes. If you want children and a mate we can look into that."

Scopes snatched the book away suddenly, scowling as he read the same section Ansel had. He read it again, and then again, getting angrier and angrier. Then flipped a few pages forwards and read that section. 

"Please don't rip the book," Ansel said. "I need that one for coursework, even if I don't agree with it."

"Stupid." Scopes signed his exasperation.

"What's stupid?"

"Everything."

Scopes wanted to shred something, or rip it apart, or hurt it, or just scream. 

"What's wrong?" Ansel asked.

"She didn't try to breed me. She lied. It was a lie. She didn't." Scopes pushed away his growing suspicions. She couldn't have been that stupid. 

"Hey," Ansel said the word softly, comforting. And then pieces fell together for him. "I'm sorry. Did you, um... bond? With her?" 

Scopes threw the book across the room, where it crashed against a wall. "No!"

"I could speak to her if you want to go back." 

"No!" Scopes took a few slow breaths, trying to remember his relaxation exercises, shaking his arms, trying to push out some of his anger and frustration and... everything. He prowled right over to Ansel, got up in his face and stared up at him.

"You want a hug?"

Scopes nodded once and stepped into Ansel's arms, slowly relaxing. Feathered arms snuck around Ansel's waist, pulling him closer. It was nice. Warm. Safe. 

"Better?" Ansel asked, quietly. Scopes nodded into Ansel's chest and tried to make the hug last as long as possible.


	27. Solitary Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scopes' side of the previous chapter.

Three days. 

It had been just three days living with the mage. Every single moment of his life filled with the mage and all his bustling energy and cheery chatter and irrepressible personality. And questions so many questions he was expected to respond to. 

It should have been stifling. Scopes wasn't used to that amount of company, or attention. He liked his solitude. He didn't need to be dragged away from his books and into the garden because there was a weird butterfly that had looked like a fairy, or a cloud shaped like a dragon, or just because it was sunny and Ansel thrived on being outdoors and every day was too good a day to be stuck inside all the time.

It wasn't that the mage didn't study, because he did. Just he managed to pack so much else into his days too.

Scopes remembered that Summer of endless discovery and exploration and wonders and freedom and this same irrepresible boy at his side. 

It was going to be five years of this. 

If Scopes survived. 

If the mage didn't grow bored of him. 

Or tired of how broken and difficult he was.

Scopes remembered what Vex had said. Make himself invaluable. Scopes had already tried everything with Orla and it hadn't worked. She'd still sought to replace him, suddenly and without warning. 

And this mage had so easily let go of his last familiar, allowing her to be replaced without question despite his professions of love for her. And after that Summer he'd also let Scopes go, doing absolutely nothing to find him again. 

But Ansel had a weakness that Orla did not. 

"I want to have sex," Scopes had announced. It was better to be direct and to the point with this mage. Ansel was not good at hints or subtlety. 

Scopes likely should have clarified by adding 'with you' because the mage immediately dove for his books and started researching. For someone so smart the mage was really stupid.

Scopes watched with surprise as the mage slammed the first book closed and picked up a second. 

Scopes paced back and forth, watching the mage and his research and trying to work out how to correct course. He hadn't expected things to go so wildly off course so immediately. They weren't having sex. It didn't seem like they were going to. Ansel was going to buy or pay someone else. 

Maybe Scopes could ask for Vex? Only Vex didn't do that work anymore and he hadn't liked it when he did and Vex was a friend and Scopes would never do that to him. It had been far too long since he'd last seen the cat.

"Orla said she tried to breed you, but you refused."

That wasn't right. Orla had made her views on breeding Scopes extremely clear. "No. Why would she? She said they shouldn't breed familiars as intelligent as I am. While some intelligence might be desirable, too much is detrimental to their wellbeing." 

"That's horrible. You're not too clever to be loved. That was a terrible thing for her to say. I'm sorry she wouldn't find you a partner. She's not interested in that sort of thing and forgets other people are sometimes. If you want children and a mate we can look into that."

It was not about love. Nothing is ever about love. Scopes had a growing sense of dread as he thought more of what Ansel was saying. He took the book from Ansel, and he read the same section.

'While familiars can live alone, a solitary familiar may feel lonely and depressed. A bonded companion will provide your familiar with the attention and enrichment they require to live a better life.'

"Stupid." Scopes signed his exasperation. She couldn't have been that stupid. She couldn't. He kept reading.

"What's stupid?"

"Everything."

Scopes wanted to shred something, or rip it apart, or hurt it, or just scream. Why would she have done something so stupid?

"What's wrong?" Ansel asked.

"She didn't try to breed me. She lied. It was a lie. She didn't." Scopes pushed away his growing suspicions. She couldn't have been that stupid. 

"Hey," Ansel said the word softly, comforting. "I'm sorry. Did you, um... bond? With her?" 

Yes the entire family was that stupid.

Scopes threw the book across the room, where it crashed against a wall. "No!"

"I could speak to her if you want to go back." 

"No!" Scopes took a few slow breaths, trying to remember his relaxation exercises, shaking his arms, trying to push out some of his anger and frustration and... everything. He missed his training. He missed Vex. He prowled right over to Ansel, got up in his face and stared up at him.

"You want a hug?"

That wasn't what Scopes had asked for. He'd asked for sex but maybe Ansel had as little interest as his sister did. Scopes could find some other way to make Ansel keep him. 

Scopes nodded once and stepped into Ansel's arms, slowly relaxing. Feathered arms snuck around Ansel's waist, pulling him closer as Scopes' thoughts calmed. It was nice. Warm. Safe. 

"Better?" Ansel asked, quietly. Scopes nodded into Ansel's chest and tried to make the hug last as long as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Ryncoon who understood what Orla was up to. :)


	28. Awkward Mage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the hits and comments and kudos. You're the best. All of you! Thanks. 
> 
> <3

The mage was awkward, not attractive. He had freckles everywhere, and fuzz all over his warm brown skin. He was hefty, not through muscle but from a love of food. All that soft padding, and thick thighs and large hands and kind eyes and such a generous mouth and he was not attractive. His hair was brown with red tones to it, and always a mess of curls that were only ever tamed when he chopped them all off, which then emphasised how his ears stuck out. He was short, but so was Scopes, but there was a solidness to him that even at his fluffiest the bird-boned Scopes never managed. He was plain, normal, oh so very average and his smile was radiant. 

He was gentle and safe and not the sort of person to elicit grand passions. The very idea was utterly ridiculous. 

The mage snored in his sleep until Scopes pushed him, and drooled and would roll into Scopes part of the bed arms flailing and take up all the space. And Scopes could have slept on the floor, or one of the other beds, or the window, or somewhere else he could get a far more restful sleep. But there was something warm and comforting about this ridiculous mage that kept the nightmares at bay. 

But not the waking dread.

The mage was going to be the death of Scopes. Familiars did not last, not even the strongest constitution ones. Surviving five years of Orla's extremely light and careful use had been - not fortunate because that implied Orla ever left anything to chance - but it had been a carefully planned success. 

Surviving another five, with an accident-prone mage that tended to blow-up and break things as easily as breathing would be impossible. Scopes knew he would not, could not survive, he'd seen other familiars torn to pieces by magic coursing through them and spells gone wrong. And they'd been new, not old and used like him. Perhaps he would not even survive those first channeling attempts. Which gave him a few months, at best.

The mage was going to be so sad when Scopes died. He'd blame himself. Scopes knew the mage had to get another familiar. One that could talk to him, and love him, and... Scopes did not want to share. And he did not want to die. And he did not want to leave. 

Maybe if Ansel was expelled or decided to leave school but take his familiar with him and not use him for magic. Or maybe Scopes could find some alternative, perhaps a way to survive.

An arm was thrown over Scopes' chest, trying to hug him, a sleepy voice mumbling. "You're thinking so loud." It was just a turn of phrase, Ansel'd never shown any ability to mindread. "Everything okay?"

It wasn't. It never could be. Scopes was tense and didn't melt into the attempted hug. 

"What time is it?" Ansel pushed himself up, looking at the window. "Before dawn? Come on! Get dressed. Let's go hunting." As if Ansel would ever contemplate hurting any living creature. 

"Hunting?" Scopes curiousity was picqued. If he asked Ansel would explain, he always did, but surprises were wonderful too when they were certain always to be without cruelty and always good.

Ansel smiled his brightest smile, already pulling on his own clothes. "It'll be fun!" 

And it was.


	29. Not Bugging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's for Lou and based on the comic that he drew for me! 
> 
> https://forlurk.tumblr.com/post/621177846516400128 I LOVE IT SO MUCH!

"Scopes! Scopes! Scooooopes! Scopes?" Scopes heard his name being called from outside in the garden. But the book was good and it sounded excited, not urgent and he didn't want to get into the habit of running whenever he was called. Scopes was an owl, not a dog, and so he kept reading because he could and no one would stop him. 

Finally Ansel descended into the room, a broad smile on his lips, he thrust a hand out to Scopes to show him, and inside was a jewelled beetle. Its crystalline shell shone rainbow hues.

Scopes took it from Ansel, popped it into his mouth. 

"No!" Ansel cried out, horrified. "You can't eat it."

Scopes spat the undamaged bug out onto his hand, and then offered the spit-covered beetle back to Ansel. 

Ansel took it, cradling the creature in both hands, making sure it was okay. "You can't just eat things, sorry I should have been clearer, it's a looking at beetle, not an eating one. Well, a jewelled singing beetle, although they don't actually sing, the noise is from their wings vibrating in the air which they do to call a mate."

"Spell component?" Scopes signed. 

Ansel nodded. "They can be, but I'd have to kill it. And properly look up what it is they do. It's pretty and I just wanted to show you."

"Thank you." Scopes smiled and stood up. "Shall we return it to the garden then? It is beautiful."

Ansel smiled and nodded and they took it back outside and let it go. 

A choice Ansel didn't regret, not even when later the garden was filled with an infestation of the beetles in all their shimmery shiny beauty. Scopes quietly dealt with them and filled up one of Ansel's ingredient jars with the trophies of his hunt.


End file.
